


Of Dust & Fire

by stardustgirl



Series: Full-length Fics [11]
Category: Solo: A Star Wars Story (2018), Star Wars Original Trilogy, Star Wars: Rebellion Era - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: (Said Kid Is 17 But That’s Irrelevant), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Dark, And Basically Adopts Him, Angst, Complete, Dark Ezra Bridger, Engineering, Everyone Needs A Hug, Ezra Bridger Needs a Hug, Han Finds A Kid, Han Solo's A+ Parenting, Heavy Angst, Imperial AU, Imperial Officers (Star Wars), Imperialism, Implied/Referenced Brainwashing, Inquisitor Ezra Bridger, Inquisitor Kanan Jarrus, Kanan Jarrus Needs a Hug, Past Brainwashing, Pseudoscience, Rated For Violence, Sabine Wren Needs a Hug, Someone Please Help These Poor Children, Teenage Ezra Bridger, mature themes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-25
Updated: 2019-12-17
Packaged: 2020-01-31 22:24:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 28
Words: 35,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18600613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stardustgirl/pseuds/stardustgirl
Summary: “It's not a question of whether I will fallIt's how hard I hit the floor”Sabine ignores the news of her family.  She ignores pretty much all news from Mandalore, in fact; it’s better for all involved.  Now that she’s second in command of a subproject of the biggest research project the Empire’s ever attempted, she doesn’t need her family, or anyone else.  Even if they’re supposedly helping solve the recent insurgent attacks.  Apparently, no one else got the message.Thirteen’s apprentice has already failed once, and he can’t afford to again.  But when an opportunity surfaces, along with new information, he can’t help but take it—and put everything on the line.Or; I try to rewrite Collapse(s), but everything's got a million times more angst.Complete.





	1. I

**Author's Note:**

> This is technically a rewrite of Collapse(s), but barely anything's the same. Keeping that in mind, I hope you enjoy!

“Kid.”

He jolts, heart slamming against his rib cage as he nearly drops the lightsaber he’s cleaning.

_You’re in trouble you’re about to get reported you’re doing something wrong—_

His master offers a small smile and he swallows hard, eyes flickering closed.  “Wh– what do you need, M– Master?”

“What answers have you gotten from your meditation?”

“Reg– regarding the Jedi, Master?” he asks carefully, cracking an eye open.

“What else would I ask you about?” the man says, raising an eyebrow as he fights the slight smile.

Swallowing, he answers, trying to speak clearly, though the memory of his punishment at the hands of his master’s master still struggles in its attempts to surface and overwhelm him.  “I– it, I mean I– I’m not sure, it– it wasn’t giving me any clear answers, and I– I—“

The quiet laugh isn’t unexpected, but the soft, harsh undertone to it hurts.  He keeps his gaze on the floor and tries to avoid looking back up at his master, telling himself he _deserves_ this reaction.  In fact, it’s a lot better than he could’ve gotten.  A lot better than he _should’ve_ gotten _._

“Are you just trying to tell me you didn’t get anything from it?  You can just say that straight, kid.”

Swallowing, he nods, hoping his voice doesn’t sound too strained as he speaks.  “Y– yes, Master. I...I’m sorry, I– I’ll do better next time—“

“And what makes you think that he’ll _give you_ a next time?  There are people more...capable of your same set of skills.”

He freezes, breath stopping though he knows it’s just a poorly disguised lie. _Please please please please please no…._

“Think of yourself as _lucky,_ kid.  My master has decided that you deserve a second chance to complete your training.”  The flood of relief at the change of subject hits a dam as he’s reminded of his failure only a few years ago.  He nods and swallows, blinking as he stares blankly at the durasteel of the small table in front of him.

“We’re being dispatched to the Lothal sector.  Do your best, I think we’d both rather not tell my master of your failure again.”

He clenches his teeth together tight enough to hurt. _I_ won’t _fail this._

“ _There_ we go, kid.   _That’s_ the attitude you need.”  His master smiles tightly at him before turning to leave.  “Make sure you’re ready to leave by 1800 hours. They want us out there as soon as possible.”  The dark-haired man grasps his shoulder, squeezing it in what’s as close to comfort as he’s ever felt here.  He only nods, keeping his head bowed.

“Of course, Master.”

* * *

“Miss Wren.”

She turns away from the hologram, nodding to the officer behind her.  “Sir.”

The chief of her research team can’t be younger than 60, the aged creases in his face cutting deeply into his skin.  “I trust you’ve received word of the recent...interruptions?”

She nods again, biting her lip as she replies.  “Yes, sir. I’ve been working with a representative from the Transport Division to create an alternative route, and—“

“While admirable, your efforts are unnecessary.  The Director has arranged for an...alternative course of action.”

Something about the way the chief researcher says the words puts her on edge but she nods regardless, blinking.

“Have you heard of the Inquisitorius, Miss Wren?”

She raises an eyebrow, understanding his reasoning behind the question.  “Yes, but...do we really need the... _mystics?_ ”

Something twitches in the man’s face, but she can’t tell if it’s good or bad.  His voice is toneless as he responds. “The Director believed it necessary for the continued survival of this project.”

“And Thrawn’s...project?”  The officer’s lip curls in disgust, and though Sabine can’t help but appreciate the ingenuity of said project, she attempts to hide her own reaction to her reference to the Defender program.

“Will not have an impact on Stardust if we keep up the rate we are going at.  The Emperor will not waste resources on _fighters_ when he sees that our weapon research is proceeding as he has ordered.  Unfortunately the delays caused by the local insurgents will be _hindering_ such progress if not dealt with.  Hence the Director’s request for an Inquisitor.”

She nods.  “When will he be arriving?”

“The Director?  Or the Inquisitor?”  His eyes are sharp, predatory as he watches for her answer and reaction.

“The In– Inquisitor,” she says carefully, stumbling over the word.

“Tomorrow, likely.  I trust everything will be ready by then?”  His gaze narrows at her jolt but Sabine recovers, clearing her throat.

“Of– of course, sir.  Will he be, ah, inspecting our progress as well as handling the insurgents?”

“For all we know, he will be.  Return to work, Miss Wren. I shall inform the rest of your development team.”

She nods, biting her lip as the officer walks away before returning her attention to the holotable.  A diagram of the focus lens hovers above her in flickering blue, the amount of kyber needed for it to both power and concentrate its strikes for various energy levels displayed in Aurebesh off to the side.  Sighing, she plugs in the projected amounts of kyber they’ll receive this week if shipments continue to be interrupted at the same rate they’re going—the result makes her mouth twist into a frown.

She continues reconfiguring the kyber arrangements, trying to find the lowest minimum possible for the weapon to function at while still maintaining maximum efficiency and power.  Despite the hypothetical nature of the project, its non-hypothetical (and smaller) counterpart will rely on these same calculations; it’s imperative that she do them _now,_ so they won’t become problematic further down the road.  Several hours later, she’s still there, frustrated at the lack of progress.  She takes a step back from the holotable, rubbing her temples. Though the gargantuan version of Stardust is purely hypothetical, she and the rest of her team have been told to put just as much work into it as they would any actual project.  Just like her Academy days, working on the Duchess.

Exhaling deeply through her nose, Sabine glances at the chrono and blinks in surprise.  It’s half an hour after her shift ended; the only other occupant in the room at the moment is a small cleaning droid, servors giving off a quiet hum.  She casts another glance back at the hologram. It’ll be there tomorrow. And if she gets in before her shift starts, she can make some more headway before the Inquisitor arrives.  Sighing, she grabs her datapad, closes and re-encodes the plans for Stardust, and shuts down the holotable. She bends to grab her bag, casting another glance at the cleaning droid as she does so, before leaving and locking R and D on her way out.

According to her contract, Sabine’s staying at the complex, in just one more building over from R and D.  She had been slightly confused at the time about _why_ Imperial housing had been a requirement, but the Director had waved it away, claiming something about safety from riots.  As she’s fiddling with the keypad to her room, she frowns, briefly remembering the similar excuse they’d given her a few short months after completion of the Duchess assignment, only for moving her into solitary classes in another part of campus.  The keypad finally beeps and she lets herself in, deciding that there’s no point in thinking about the Duchess any longer. It was just an assignment, and one from a few years ago now, no less. No point in dwelling on it.

She drops her bag on the bed, moving past it to the mirror as she runs a hand through her bright hair.  She’d picked the most vivid red she could find that still seemed _somewhat_ normal; unnatural, glaringly artificial hair colors were banned as part of the dress code, though somehow the current scarlet still manages to pass the Director’s scrutiny.

Sabine washes her face quickly before returning to her bag, pulling out her datapad and closing the open documents, intending to check and see if there are any further instructions for tomorrow.  Instead her eyes catch on a holovid file on the ‘pad’s main screen, labeled “tri.final.mp4.” She opens her messages quickly.


	2. II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Inquisitors arrive on Lothal and are introduced to Project Stardust and one of its subprojects’ leaders.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Referenced Genocide (Theoretical)

_ I’m not sure how much supervision we’ll be under, so don’t say anything unless I talk to you, okay? _

He gives an abrupt, jerky nod, adjusting his grip on the strap hanging from the ceiling of the gunship.  He’s just barely tall enough to reach it if he stands on his toes and uses the Force, but even with that his shoulders are strained to the point of pain.

_ I’ll see if I can get you out of a couple interrogations, too, while we’re at it. _  His master glances down, offering him a small smile, and he responds in like manner.  He glances out the ship again, watching as it approaches a rare patch of remaining grass, and then the city.  His stomach twists.

_ “Boy, come out here before I make you regret it,” the cold voice of the alien Imperial orders.  Ezra remains huddled in the closet, breath catching and shoulders heaving in silent sobs. _

_ “Ezra, do—”  His father’s warning is cut off by a cry of pain, and Ezra’s eyes widen in fear.  His mother’s sobbing continues to echo in his ears and he curls in on himself further, trying to shut out the sound of it. _

The ship lands smoothly, though he still nearly loses his balance.  He feels his master’s vaguely amused gaze on him and bites his cheek, face flushing in embarrassment.  The taller human steps out of the gunship and he follows suit, rubbing his shoulder as he glances around at the Imperial complex.  It’s bigger than he remembers, nearly twice the size; it must have expanded since he’s been with the Inquisitorius. Strangely, however, there’s no one out here beyond them and a pair of ‘troopers crossing the yard a hundred meters away.

_ Kid, let’s go. _  He realizes he’s frozen and starts walking again, nearly tripping due to the fact that he’s too busy looking around at the changes to the garrison to pay attention to the ground at his feet.  His master strides across the yard with long steps and he follows, taking two for every one of his mentor’s.

His master seems to know where they’re going, so he follows him into the building directly across from the gunship.  He jolts in surprise at the interior; it seems more like an office building than the Imperial research center his master had told him it’d be.  There’s a reception desk and a protocol droid that looks a few models outdated as it addresses them.

“Do you have an appointment?” the droid asks in a monotone.  His master takes a step closer.

“We’re the Inquisitors Director Krennic...requested.  Where is he?”

“Deputy Director Korr only informed me that there was one Inquisitor arriving tod—”

“Well now there’s two.  The Inquisitorius doesn’t  _ operate _ on  _ his _ schedule.  I’ll ask you again: where is Director Krennic?”  He recognizes the tone in his master’s voice; it’s the threatening, low, dangerous one that means that either someone’s going to listen or someone’s going to die, and fast.  He swallows, silently glad that the man never uses it on him when they’re not under supervision on Mustafar.

The droid doesn’t appear threatened, however; it merely turns to a pager.  “Director Krennic is unavailable at the moment, but I can get you the leader of one of the research teams unless you would like to wait.”  His master makes a low sound of frustration, almost like a growl, but gives a sharp nod.

“One of the chiefs should work.”  The droid pages someone whose name he immediately forgets, and then informs them that he should be here in minutes.  His master crosses his arms.

He allows his gaze to roam around the room, taking everything in.  The building’s new enough that he’s sure it wasn’t around when he was last on Lothal.

The door swishes open and he looks up, blinking at the sight of a man in his 60s.  “Ah, Inqusit...ors.” He draws the word out in apparent surprise, and his master nods.

“Yeah.  Where’s the Director?”

“He is elsewhere, however I can give you a tour of our facilities in the meantime and explain the problem.”  He studies the chief with the unblinking gaze he’s found unsettles most non-Force-sensitives, and upon noticing his gaze, the man squirms slightly.

“Of course.  Apprentice.” He jumps, turning to glance up at his master.  The dark-haired man jerks his head, following the officer out of the reception area.  He follows behind the two, keeping close to his master as they pass a pair of ‘troopers.  His skin crawls despite the fact that the plastoid-armored soldiers show no sign of even noticing him and his master besides slowing momentarily.

“This is our primary research team for Project Stardust, Miss Wren is second under me, our chief researcher,” the man announces as he waves their way into a large room filled with consoles and holotables.  There’s only about seven people or so in the room, nowhere near its full capacity. “Wren!”

The head of a young woman across the room shoots up.  She brushes bright red hair out of her face and picks up a datapad when their guide makes a beckoning gesture.  She approaches, glancing at him and his master warily before her gaze flicks back to the officer.

“Inquisitors, this is Sabine Wren, who is, as I said, heading the team under me.  She can explain the various mechanics of it to you. Show them around.” The woman nods, gaze shifting between him and his master once more before she gestures for them to follow her, starting to explain the project as she leads the way back to the holotable she was at when they arrived.  He tunes out.

“—the primary ignition, which will fire through here and here, powered and magnified by the kyber and a unique combination of kyber and reflective durasteel, respectively, and then concentrated by the focus lens here, and if we take Lothal as an example...it would fire about here, devastating the entire planet.”  He blinks, struggling to cover his surprise as he tries to catch up to the thread of the conversation. But  _ devastating _ a  _ planet? _  What could she—

She presses a button on the side of the table, starting the simulation, and he gasps.  His master shoots him a sharp glance, but as he watches the hologram flicker and disintegrate...he can’t think of any other reaction.

“That’s the response I get from most people whenever I show them this.  I know it seems extreme, but it’s purely theoretical research; the actual Stardust is much smaller and more localized, more suited for targeting individual bases,” Wren continues.  “This is just precautionary research, in case one day a planet becomes too...problematic in its protests against the Empire.” He barely hears her, still watching the flickering blue pixels disintegrate.

_ Control your reactions, kid. _

_ They’re making a  _ planet killer!

_ I can _ see _ that.  I’ll talk to you about it later, okay?  Just  _ calm down.

_ But— _

_ Calm _ down.

“And what about the localized insurgency problem?”

Wren answers his master almost immediately, ignoring his abrupt change of subject as she pulls up a clean, intact model of Lothal with several pins.  “We have kyber shipments coming in from here and here, and they’re mostly intercepting us here and here.”

_ Master, can I suggest something? _  His master gives a subtle nod, and he clears his throat.  Wren glances over at him though, he notices, she doesn’t meet his eyes.

“What if you just found a new area?  Like, to mine the kyber in?” Her brow shoots up in surprise and thankfully his master steps in.

“My apprentice and I possess a deep connection to the Force, and so do the crystals.  He can help you find a new place to extract the kyber, and I’ll look for the insurgents while he does so.”

Wren nods slowly, mulling it over.  “I’ll have to bring it up with the chief of my team, of course, and probably the Director as well, but I don’t see why not.”

“This project’s important, yeah?”  She nods again, apparently confused at his master’s question.  “Then I’m overriding your orders. We’ll find and start a new extraction point, and I’ll start looking for the insurgents.  That’s the whole reason we’re here anyway.”

She glances at the chrono across the room, uncertainty plain in her expression as the cyan map of Lothal reflects in her gaze.

“We can leave after—“

“No, we’re leaving  _ now, _ ” his master says firmly.  “I’m getting rid of this problem  _ now, _ so we can move onto problems that are actually  _ deserving _ of the Inqusitorius’s attention.”  She almost seems to flinch, but nods regardless.

“Al– alright...what do you need?”

He shares a glance with his master before the man answers.  “Two ‘troopers should be good for my apprentice, and you should probably go with him to make sure the extraction site is what you need.  I should be fine on my own.” His heart sinks at the mention of ‘troopers, but Wren nods at least.

“I’ll take care of it, sir.”

His master’s already halfway turned and he doesn’t glance back as he corrects her.  “It’s ‘my lord’ for Inquisitors.” He follows his master out.


	3. III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Inquisitor receives a comm, and his apprentice embarks on his mission.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Referenced Torture, Referenced Child Abuse

“ _If the boy fails, I expect you to genuinely_ punish _him this time._ ”

“I always—“

The Grand Inquisitor cuts him off sharply.  “ _Don’t bother_ lying _to me.  I know you didn’t the last several times he failed in his drills._ ”

“He was punished for losing Tano—“

“ _—by_ me. You, _however, could not be trusted to carry out his punishment alone._ ”

Kanan swallows, biting his lip to keep another outburst down.  Every instinct in him screams to fight back, to defend the boy, but he knows that if he does, it will only endanger the kid’s life further.

“ _The boy will be reconditioned once again if he keeps up the behavior he’s made himself known for thus far.  Have I made myself clear?_ ”

He nods, careful to keep his head bowed.  “Yes, my lord. Do you have any other requests?”

“ _There is_ one _thing.  Lord Vader has requested an update on Stardust._ ”  Something in Kanan’s chest tightens.  Why would Vader need to know about _that?_  Unless….

“It seems to be progressing only slightly behind schedule, my lord.  The chief researcher of the subproject of it that’s located here introduced us to the second in command of his team, and she explained how it works.”

“ _Hmm.  Who is she?_ ”

“Her name’s Sabine Wren, my lord.”

There’s a moment of silence, and Kanan almost risks a glance up at the hologram before reprimanding himself sharply.  The audio crackles slightly when the Grand Inquisitor finally speaks again.

“ _Remove her from the equation._ ”

“Anything else, my lord?”

“ _That will be all._ ”  The hologram clicks off and Kanan exhales slowly, running a hand through his hair before realizing he’s trembling slightly.  He stands, wincing as the pressure on his knees is relieved. He steps over to the holoprojector, pocketing it before glancing back at the door.  The kid’s waiting for him to pass on any last instructions before he leaves with Sabine and the ‘troopers. In all honesty, Kanan’s worried about letting him go, if only because he has his issues with ‘troopers—purge troopers to be specific, but they’re similar enough—and he knows the kid has his own problems, too.

He finally forces himself to leave, adopting his usual glare as he strides through the halls back to where the kid waits.  Flashes of the last time the kid was punished for a failure as important as this one will be rise in his mind unbidden: the kid screaming, thrashing against restraints as Seven and their master invade his mind and tear his shields apart—

He raises his own shields quickly as he nears the kid.  He’s only just started speaking again a couple of years ago, nearly three years after the incident with Tano.  The last thing they need is for Kanan to accidentally send a glimpse over their bond and for the kid to relapse in response.

He exits the building, catching sight of the kid at the far end of the square.   _Kid, c’mere.  Need to talk to you._  The kid turns, glances back at Wren and says something, and walks back to Kanan.  He jerks his head toward the door as the kid nears. “Inside.”

He leads the kid to a storage room only a few meters away from the exit into the yard.  Once it closes behind them, Kanan raises a hand, shutting the holocam off with the Force and flicking the light on before turning back to his apprentice.

“Look, my master commed.”  The kid’s face pales. “No, no, you’re okay, you’re not in trouble or anything.”   _Yet._  “But he wanted to make sure you knew what you’re supposed to be doing and that you’ll do it.  Can I trust you on that?”

The teenager nods firmly.  “Ye– yeah, you can. I can do it.”  Kanan smiles grimly, squeezes the boy’s shoulder lightly.

“Good.”

“Was that it, Master?”

“Yeah.  Let’s go, alright?”  As they leave, he turns the light off again and turns the holocam back on.  The kid crosses the yard to rejoin Wren and the ‘troopers, and Kanan spares a moment to study the young woman.  He doesn’t want to risk asking his apprentice to take her out; if he fails, she’ll catch on. And that’s the last thing they need.

His apprentice follows Wren to a group of speeder bikes, keeping a careful distance from the ‘troopers.  Kanan watches them until they leave, smiling faintly to himself before turning to retrieve his own requisitioned speeder.  He pulls up the holomap again to double check the hypothesized location of the rebels and then clicks it off, taking a deep breath in before gunning the speeder and leaving the complex.

Within minutes, he finds himself speeding across the plains, tall grass parting as the nose of his speeder cuts through it.  This area’s likely one of the last few areas on Lothal left like this; from orbit, the planet appears more similar to Dathomir than the prairie he knows it once was.  He can faintly sense other Force signatures in the grass, small enough that they can only be members of the indigenous fauna. His apprentice is much better at connecting with other beings than he is; he’d be able to place the animals in a heartbeat by their signature alone, not to mention he actually lived here for a small part of his life.  Kanan doesn’t bother tamping down the familiar rush of anger he feels at what the kid’s talents are being used for. With the Jedi, he would’ve had so much more potential than just...interrogation.

He pushes all thoughts of the Jedi out of his mind.  It’s dangerous enough just to even _think_ of himself as Kanan; he doesn’t need another reminder of what the Inquisitorius has taken from him.

* * *

He casts a sidelong glance at Wren as the speeders slide through the grass.  The woman’s signature hums with focus in the Force, something he normally doesn’t sense in anyone other than Inquisitors.  But he saw her when she was explaining Stardust; she’s clearly committed to this project.

He wishes he had that same devotion to something.

Suddenly he hears something and stops the speeder, the ‘trooper behind him narrowly avoiding hitting him.  He cocks his head, closing his eyes and stretching out with the Force.

Singing.  It’s singing.

He opens his eyes, trying to block out the screaming of his own lightsaber’s crystals in response.

“Inquisitor?” Wren calls hesitantly.

“This way.”  He guns the speeder again and turns to the right, the grass whipping around his face as he zooms through it.  Wren and the ‘troopers follow.

The grass begins to fade out, replaced by rocks and more of the tall spires.  The singing increases in volume and he slows, stopping the speeder by a cluster of the rock spires.  By the time he’s off of the speeder bike and standing in front of the nearest spire, placing a hand on it, Wren and the stormtroopers have arrived.  The woman dismounts her speeder and approaches as he closes his eyes, trying to connect with the crystals.

They rebel against him with enough force that he staggers back a step, gasping.

Wren raises an eyebrow.  “It’s...a rock.”

He glares at her.  “The kyber’s behind there.  Get an extraction team out– out here, I promise it’s there.”

“...sure.”  She folds her arms, gaze still skeptical, and he’s acutely aware of the way the ‘troopers’ blank gazes are on him as one shifts their blaster.  He swallows.

“It’s here.  Trust me.”

The Force nudges him and he turns, ignoring Wren’s reply as he searches for the source of the disturbance.  Something’s about to happen. Something’s about to go wrong.

He instinctively ducks as a charge hits the ground directly in front of Wren, eliciting a curse from the officer as he stands warily, eyes still searching the sky for the source of the bolt that nearly hit him only moments ago.

Another nudge makes him call his lightsaber to his hand, igniting one blade in time to deflect a second bolt in the direction of his assailant.  The sun breaks through the yellow sky, just long enough to glint off of a blaster that’s otherwise invisible behind two of the spires. He narrows his eyes, and jumps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> May the Fourth be with you!!


	4. IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Inquisitor's Apprentice captures one of the rebels, but a comment puts him off balance as he tries not to remember his past life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Implied Threat of Torture

He lands, stumbling, on the top of a rock spire, directly above the person who fired.  The man looks up, a weatherbeaten, vaguely familiar face shading his eyes with a hand.

He drops.

He lands in a crouch in front of the assailant, sneering as he cuts the man’s blaster in half without a second thought.  He points his lightsaber so that the tip is only inches from the man’s throat.

“You can either come out with me calmly, or we can do th- this the hard way.”  The man has an odd expression, as if he wants to say something but can’t figure out how to.  Sighing, he gestures with the ‘saber. “Come on, let’s go.”

The man finally moves, and he takes up a position in the rear to make sure the rebel won’t try something again.

It’s easy.  Almost _too_ easy.

They return to the ‘troopers and Wren, who looks only marginally more impressed now that he has the rebel in hand.  She’s also now wielding a blaster, he notes, though she quickly holsters it as the ‘troopers approach with binders.

He steps off to the side, sheathing his ‘saber and raising his arm as he activates his wrist comm.  “Master, I found one of the rebels.”

“ _Copy, Apprentice._ ”

“Transmitting coordinates now.”  He presses the button adjacent to the comm on his gauntlet, waiting as it flashes briefly before beeping softly.

“ _Coordinates received, Apprentice.  I’m on my way._ ”

“Copy.”  The comm clicks off and he exhales, running a hand through his hair briefly before glancing back at Wren and the ‘troopers.  The rebel’s still staring at him. He shifts under the man’s gaze, suddenly uneasy and feeling as if he needs to prove something.  No. _No._  He has _nothing_ to prove to this man, _nothing._

He turns abruptly, adjusting his glove as he walks to one of the speeders.  He checks the fuel, checks his chrono, checks the sun. It’s barely visible through the smog, but what he _can_ see of it matches up with what his chrono is telling him.  It’s going on evening now, and knowing his master, the interrogation will likely run through the night until dawn.  If they make _him_ do it, however...as much as he hates it, he could get it done in a few hours.  Maybe less, depending on how strong the man’s shields are.

His gaze flicks to Wren.  She’s watching him impassively, seemingly ignorant of the ‘troopers next to her.  She and his master—most of the Empire, if he’s honest—don’t share his fear of the white-armored soldiers.  Then again, most of the Empire hasn’t been dragged out of a closet in a burning building by them while sobbing only to be tortured for several weeks straight afterward.

He’s well aware of how his experiences differ from most of the Empire.

Something touches his awareness and he jolts, head shooting up and around to see a gunship quickly approaching their location.  He watches as it nears, hair standing on end even though he knows he’s done well this time.

_You don’t know, maybe you still messed up.  Maybe you’ll still get in trouble._

“You _are_ Bridger, aren’t you?”

He whips around, ‘saber hilt already in hand as he strides over to the rebel.  He ignites it.

“ _What did you say?_ ” he growls.

“I wasn’t sure at first, but no—”

His master’s signature suddenly seems very close to him and he turns just enough to see the man rising from a crouch as the gunship lowers behind him.  Whenever they’re in the field, his master prefers not to wait until the ship lands before getting off. This time, he’s glad for it.

Shaking, he steps away from the prisoner, swallowing as he nods to him.  “He- he was shooting at us, and when I showed up he came willingly, Master.”   _I...can you take him?_

His master’s eyes narrow.   _Why?  Is he threatening you?_

 _Not...exactly.  I just...I don’t feel comfortable._  He shifts his weight, suddenly noticing his ignited ‘saber again and clicking it off.  The blade slides back into the hilt and he takes a trembling breath in.

_If he threatened you, you can tell me._

_He_ didn’t _threaten me.  I just...can you do the interrogation this time?_

His master studies him for a moment longer before nodding abruptly, brushing past him as he approaches the rebel.  His master says something to the man, quietly, and then nods to the ‘troopers. He flinches back as they manhandle the rebel back to the gunship.  The man turns his piercing blue gaze on him and he turns away, unable to meet it.

He’s silent on the ride back, having given up his speeder to another ‘trooper and following his master onto the gunship.  He stretches to reach the ceiling strap, avoiding the stare the rebel fixes on him and resisting the urge to bombard his master with pleas to do the interrogation.  He just- he just can’t make himself do it. Not after the man’s comment.

And though his master has already agreed, at least on his own, they both know that it’s the Grand Inquisitor’s decision as to who interrogates the rebel.

They’ve both learned from the last time.

As soon as the ship lands, his master jerks his head.  He follows obediently, trying to match the man’s stride as he’s led into a small room with windows half-covered with blinds.  His master reaches a hand out, easily shutting off the holocam in the corner and closing the door in the same gesture before pulling out a holoprojector.  The man sets it on the desk and kneels. He follows suit.

The comm comes without warning.  He feels his breath hitch at the small ping, and knows that the terror flowing across their bond is not just his own, even as his master answers the comm.  His master’s master appears, still terrifying even tinged in blue.

“ _You have apprehended one of the rebels?_ ”

“Yes, my lord.  It was actually my apprentice who did.”

He feels the Pau’an’s gaze turn on him and suppresses a soft whimper, instead swallowing forcefully and keeping his gaze on the ground.

“ _Very_ good, _Apprentice._ Very _good.  I was not expecting such a turn in your...abilities._ ”

He doesn’t miss the implied threat, only nodding jerkily.

“I had a request regarding the interrogation of him, my lord.”

“ _Go on._ ”

“He said something that unsettled my apprentice.  If you grant me your permission, I would prefer to be the one to interrogate him, my lord.”

There’s silence.

Only silence.

He squeezes his eyes shut, sure one of them is about to be sentenced to execution, or that his parents will be in his place.

Instead, however, the Grand Inquisitor finally responds.  “ _And you, Apprentice?_ ”

“My- my lord?”

“ _What do_ you _want to do?_ ”

“I- I’d be fine, I mean I’d like it if, um, if my- my master could be the one to- could be the one to interrogate him.  My lord.”

“ _And why is that?  What did this_ rebel _say that upset you nearly to the point of losing your composure?_ ”

He swallows, shaking as he responds.  “He- he said- he said my name, I mean my last- my last name, he kn- knew who I was.  Who I was B- Before.” His voice cracks on the final word and he opens his eyes, trying to avoid hyperventilating as he waits for a response.  Thankfully, it comes quickly.

“ _Thirteenth Brother, you may interrogate the prisoner._ ”  He exhales in a whoosh, eyes shuttering closed again.  “ _Apprentice…._ ”  His eyes flash open again and he risks a glance up, flinching back as he catches the Pau’an’s quiet fury.  “ _Be grateful I am feeling lenient today.  However, forget the correct way to address me again…._ ”  Eyes widening as he realizes his mistake, he nods vigorously.

“Of- of course, my lord.  I apologize, my lor- my lord.”

“ _I don’t want your apologies.  Leave, boy, I need to discuss something with my apprentice._ ”  He nods quickly again, scrambling to his feet and bowing low.

“Th- thank you, my lord.”  He casts a quick glance at his master as he leaves, but the man’s gaze is on the floor.  Swallowing hard, he slips out alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to try and start updating this on Mondays so I have a consistent schedule buttt we'll see if that sticks ahaaa


	5. V

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Inquisitor’s apprentice watches a recording and learns a haunting truth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Implied Threat of Torture and Discussion of Child Death

It’s been almost five hours since his master came out of the interrogation, and he’s barely seen him since.

He’s been wandering the complex for the past seventeen hours, unable to sleep.  He watched the Stardust team work for a while, smirking to himself whenever Wren shot him an irritated glare—irritation at _what,_ exactly, was unclear, though he had a feeling it had to do with either (or both) his existence or presence there—and then wandered to the other side of the complex.  He had promptly found the stormtrooper and pilot barracks, and had promptly left.

And now here he is, trying to think of something to do that isn’t going to get him in trouble.

_Oh._

The interrogation.

All, or at least part of it, had been recorded according to standard Imperial procedure.  He could simply pull up the records, watch them, get the gist of what was going on with the kyber before he and his master moved onto the next stage.  He rises, pushing the rolling desk chair back as he crosses to a computer terminal. He pulls an empty datachip from a small bin nearby and plugs it into the terminal, pulling up the interrogation.  He downloads it and ejects the datachip, heading back to his chair and spinning aimlessly as he fishes his holoprojector out of a pocket and slides the chip in. He sets the projector on the edge of the holotable nearby and leans back in the chair.

Lazily, he flicks the holoprojector on with the Force, leaning back even more in the chair as the holorecording starts.

The room’s mostly empty, a small table and a pair of chairs across from each other the only furnishings visible.  In the chair opposite the door sits the rebel he captured only a few days before, wrists cuffed loosely to the table.  The man seems even _more_ familiar from this angle, but he still can’t place him.

Minutes pass in silence and he sighs, leaning forward and skipping the holovid ahead.  He stops it at the sight of the door opening and leans back again, brow furrowing as he recognizes the ISB uniform.  The agent goes to the vacant chair and sits.

He realizes the audio’s not on and adjusts it, blinking in surprise as he catches the tail end of the agent’s question.

“ _—adi, former governor of Lothal, correct?_ ”

The man across from him snorts.  “ _I’m not giving you the time of_ day, _Imp._ ”

“ _Alright then,_ ” the agent comments mildly, noting it on a datapad.  “ _We can get an Inquisitor in here, if that’s what this takes._ ”

The rebel snorts again, though he notices the familiar gleam of fear in his eyes.  “ _Yeah, because your Inquisitor just_ happens _to still be around.  Don’t they have bett—_ ”

The door opens again, and this time his master walks in.

“ _No, not really,_ ” he responds to the unfinished question, smirking faintly as he approaches the agent and stands at his shoulder.  “ _We found you, so now we’re going to deal with you._ ”

“ _That pipsqueak wasn’t enough?_ ”  His stomach roils with slight anger at the comment, though he can tell it’s just a last ditch attempt at bravado in the face of what most people consider the Empire’s worst weapon.  “Most people” meaning the ones who haven’t seen the plans for Stardust.

“ _Clearly he was, otherwise you wouldn’t be in here,_ ” the agent points out.

“ _I’d think_ very _carefully about your next words,_ ” his master says in a low growl of a Core accent to the rebel.  He tries to hide a visible flinch, but clearly his master catches it, because he clears his throat and drops back into his Outer Rim accent.  “ _All right, so first things first: who are you working with?  Who gave you the idea to stop the kyber?_ ”  The man doesn’t reply to his master’s question, and he steps past the ISB agent and crosses to the other side of the table.  “ _We can make this very_ simple _or we can make this very_ hard. _Your choice._ ”

There’s still no response and, after a long moment, his master sighs and unclips his ‘saber from his belt.  He ignites it, holding the crimson blade away from both the table and the rebel, but he still catches the moment the prisoner realizes just how deep he is in trouble.

“ _Now, I’ll ask again—who gave you the idea to stop the kyber shipments?_ ”

“ _The baby Inquisitor,_ ” the rebel snarks.  He recognizes the expression on his master’s face; he’s only ever seen it when his master is trying to restrain himself from killing someone.

“ _Inquisitor, if I may?_ ”  His master turns, giving a short, sharp nod as the agent stands and approaches, reading off of a datapad.  His master takes a step back.

“ _You escaped Bakura, along with several others, according to the records.  Among them Mira and Ephraim Bridger._ ”  The agent looks up.  “ _Where are they now?_ ”

His heart stops.

 _Mira and Ephraim Bridger._  Mira and Ephraim _Bridger._

The Grand Inquisitor had said—

 _His master_ had said—

He chokes, barely hearing the rest of the interrogation as he drops his head into his hands.

_Mira and Ephraim Bridger._

_Alive._

Wait, hold on.  The rebel’s saying something else.

“ _—the Bridgers’ boy.  What have you turned him into?_ ”

 _Me.  He’s talking about_ me.

“ _The Bridgers’ son died,_ ” his master cuts in.  His head shoots up again, breath catching.

 _I didn’t!_ he wants to scream.   _I didn’t die!  I’m still here!_

_I’m still here._

The rebel scoffs.  “ _He clearly didn’t, I saw him with my own eyes out there._ ”

“ _There are no records listed for a child from them, though I remember one being arrested at the same time as they were,_ ” the agent says slowly, scrolling through something on his datapad.  “ _Though it might not have been their child, they were known for associating with—_ ”

“ _You’re all karking_ stupid _if you think that the Bridgers didn’t have a child.  And even more so if you don’t_ recognize him when he’s right in front of you. _I knew the Bridgers,_ personally, _and they most certainly had a child, a son.  Now, I normally would have no idea why the Empire would delete any traces of his existence like you’re saying, Agent, but I think the reason why is pretty obvious, given that their son was turned into– into_ that. _Into a_ monster.”

The agent seems about to respond but his master’s head whips in the direction of the holocam.  He outstretches a hand, eyes narrowed in concentration, and the feed cuts out into static.

He remains still in the chair, eyes on the static of the holorecording before it finally cuts to Aurebesh reading “End of Questioning Session 2234 A, Proceed to Questioning Session 2234 B.”  However, the words are all he absorbs, and even then he barely does.

 _They deleted any record of you.  For all anyone knows, you’re_ dead. _Your parents are alive._ They _think you’re dead._

But is the sentiment so wrong?  After all, he might as well _be_ dead in the eyes of his parents, and anyone else who matters.  The Inquisitorius has striven to drive out anything that made him... _him._  He still can’t bring himself to even _think_ his name, not even when there’s no one here who could overhear his thoughts beyond his master.

His master.

His master can’t know he watched this.  He can’t. He _can’t._

But what is he supposed to _do_ with this knowledge?

He can’t just _sit here,_ not while knowing that his parents are _alive_ and _got out of prison._  He finds himself clenching his hands even tighter on the arms of the chair.  Distantly, as if from underwater, he hears something shatter. He should make himself relax before he subconsciously breaks something else...but he doesn’t feel like it.  He doesn’t feel like doing _anything_ now.

 _They lied to you.  They_ still _lie to you._

 _And you_ let them.

Does this mean that his going after Tano was useless?  That it really _wasn’t_ worth anything?

He wants to scream, to cry, to do _something,_ but he can’t.

_They aren’t imprisoned._

Abruptly, he gets up.  He knows what he has to do now.

* * *

He waves a hand, sending the door to the cell slamming open with enough force to make the ‘troopers down the hall look up.  He spares a quick glance back at them.

“I’m interrogating him privately.  Which means I don’t need you here.”

“The other Inquisitor said that you weren’t to talk to Prisoner X10 alone, sir,” one ventures.  His gaze darkens.

“And I’m choosing to overrule that.  You have ten seconds to get out of here,” he nearly spits.  The ‘troopers share a glance, and then leave. He turns back to the cell, taking a shaky breath in as he enters.  Immediately he reaches up to the holocam in the corner, shutting it off with the Force before turning his attention to the prisoner.  Ryder Azadi, his file says. Former governor of Lothal, imprisoned for treason against the Empire.

“Well, if it isn’t the Bridgers’ boy.”  He stops in his approach, staring at the man sitting with cuffed wrists on the small metal slab extruding from the wall that passes as a bed here.  “Do you remember me?”  
“No,” he answers honestly.

“It would’ve been a long time ago, over ten years, I think.  I was a friend of your parents.”

He studies the man unflinchingly, but finds nothing particularly recognizable beyond the vague sense of familiarity that he felt upon watching the recording of the interrogation for the first time.

“I don’t remember you.”

Azadi waves a hand casually, forced to bring the other with it thanks to the binders.  “Ah, it’s nothing. You were just a kid then.”

Something flares hot in his chest.  “I wasn’t a kid. I was– I was _strong._ ”

Azadi studies him for a long moment.  “Yeah? And who told you that? The Inquisitors?”

“I _was_ strong.”

“But that isn’t why you came in here, is it?”

He averts his gaze, studying the bottom step into the cell.  “No,” he says in a small voice.

“No, it isn’t,” Azadi agrees.  “You came in here because you want to know about your parents.”

He blinks, and then nods.

“They escaped prison.  Did you know about that?”

He shakes his head.  “They told me...they told me they were still imprisoned.”  He swallows past an unfamiliar lump in his throat. “When?”

“About seven years ago now.”

Seven years….He would’ve been ten.  It would’ve been before the Tano incident.

“Where are they now?”

“Last I heard, they tried to join the rebellion.”

The rebellion….”You mean it’s real?  It’s not just a bunch of malcontents trying to fight back?”   _Because that’s useless.  You don’t fight the Empire.  You run from it and die, or you go with it, and live for a while longer if you’re lucky.  We’ll all die someday anyway._

“Of course it is, son.  It’s real.

“And your parents are there.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well. That was eventful.
> 
> And don’t worry, we’ll get back to Sabine soon!


	6. VI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Inquisitor’s apprentice has an emotional crisis and seeks support in the only thing still familiar to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Torture, Referenced Threat of Death to Parents

He doesn’t know where to go.  Who to trust. What to  _ do. _

The Inquisitorius never trained him for  _ this. _

He can’t stop himself from shaking, from trembling hard enough that his vision blurs—or maybe that’s the tears, he’s not sure—as he pulls his knees up to his chest and hugs them.

He can feel his master’s presence in the back of his mind, like a water droplet on his upper lip he knows is there but can’t bother to rub off.  Finally he stretches out, swallowing anxiously.

_ Master? _

There’s a hesitation, but finally a response.   _ Yeah, kid? _

_ Can I...can I talk to you? _

_ Can it wait?  I’m kind of in the middle of something. _  This time, the response is thick with irritation, and he flinches involuntarily.

_ Sorry, sorry, of course Master. _

There’s no reply, and he rests his chin on his knees, staring blankly at the wall across from him.

The Inquisitorius never trained him for this.

* * *

Kanan’s unable to keep a note of irritation from coloring his voice as he responds.

“Then it’s a good thing I did not  _ ask _ for your  _ opinion, _ Seventh Sister.”

The hologram snorts, the woman crossing her arms as she responds with a haughty tone.  “ _ One of these days, Thirteen.  One of these days the boy will fail; he will be punished, and so will you. _ ”

“No, because  _ I _ will be the one handling his punishment.”

“ _ After the incident with Tano?  No, you’re much too soft. Our master will allow  _ me _ to handle it the next time.  And trust me, there  _ will be _ a next time. _ ”

“There  _ won’t. _  He just captured one of the rebels, one of the  _ leaders _ of the insurgent cell here, actually.”

“ _ And he also refused to do the interrogation himself, did he not? _ ”

Kanan glares at her, gaze hard.  “He had a good reason.”

“ _ And what about the rest of us, who have managed to Turn ourselves and others without the use of blackmail and threats? _ ”  A blatant lie, but he graces it with a response regardless.

“He’s young, he’ll learn.”

She rolls her eyes.  “ _ Not with the excuse of a Master he has, thanks to you.  It’s been ten years, and your idea of punishing him is  _ still _ merely making him do twice his usual amount of drills. _ ”

“Yeah, and yours is to break down his shields to the point where he has trouble meditating and I can’t bring him with me when there’s a Jedi sighting because he can’t shield himself,” he growls.  “He  _ still _ can’t sleep through the night.”

“ _ If I didn’t know better, I’d say you almost  _ cared _ for the boy.  But I  _ know _ you wouldn’t want to risk going against our master’s orders,  _ especially _ after the last time. _ ”  The Mirialan’s voice is full of a sickening sweetness, almost a purr, and it makes his stomach twist.

“I care for his life the same as I’d care for any other tool of the Empire’s.  He’s to be trained and used, nothing else,” he recites, suppressing the urge to snap at her.

“ _ You would do well to try and remember that.  It’d be a shame if the Grand Inquisitor and I had to examine his shields again. _ ”

The implied threat makes him both nauseous and furious at the same time.  “And  _ you _ would do well to remember that the boy is  _ my _ apprentice,  _ not _ yours.  Which means his training is  _ my _ concern, not yours.”

“ _ Training an apprentice is a  _ privilege, _ Thirteen.  One that can be stripped from you as easily as your rank. _ ”

“If it’s such a privilege, then why don’t  _ you _ have one?”  The seething fury on her face would scare him if he hadn’t seen the same look on his own master’s face hundreds of times.

“ _ Remember your place, Thirteen.  And ensure that the boy remembers his. _ ”  The hologram clicks off abruptly and he feels himself relax, rubbing the back of his neck as he steps over to the projector and picks it up, pocketing it.

_ Where are you, kid?  We can talk now. _

His answer comes immediately.   _ I can meet you in the conference room. _

_ Sure.  I’ll be waiting. _

He leans against the wall, tipping his head back as he tries to clear his mind.  The discussion with Seven stays with him, however, forcing him to turn it over and over in his mind repeatedly until he’s sick of it.

The worst part is that a lot of what she said is  _ right. _  The punishments the other Inquisitors use on their trainees are effective—he should know, he’s been subject to many of them—and their apprentices actually manage to make it out in the field without supervision longer than a week.

His own apprentice, however….

He feels the kid’s signature only moments before the door slides open and he stumbles in, stopping in the middle of the room and catching his breath, almost as if he ran the entire way over.  Even as he straightens, Kanan notices the kid is shaking.

“What’s got you spooked so much?”

The kid casts a nervous glance up at the holocam in the corner.  “Don’t worry, it’s already off. I was comming someone.” The kid nods shakily.

Kanan notices that he still seems uneasy and gestures to the chairs pushed into the corner.  “Here, you wanna sit?” His apprentice gives another trembling nod and Kanan pushes off of the wall, following the kid over as they each pull a chair away from the mass.  They don’t sit, however, just remain standing in front of the chairs.

“Alright kid, spill.”

The kid’s eyes find the ground as he speaks, voice shaking.

“I...I saw– saw the interrogation.”

_ Oh. _

“And?” he says after a long silence.  The kid swallows and shifts his weight again.

“And...and that guy...the gov– governor...and what you guys were all saying about my p– about the Bridgers.”  He swallows.

_ Oh kriff. _  “And what did you think about that?” Kanan asks softly, finally sitting.  The kid follows suit.

“I...I thought they were in pr–  _ prison, _ Master.  That’s what– that’s what your master, the– the Grand Inquisitor, that’s what he said when I...when I didn’t kill Tano.”  He swallows thickly. “He always said that if I did– if I messed up, then they’d...die. And when I didn’t kill Tano...he said he would ki– kill them the next time I messed up.”  Kanan can see the unshed tears glistening in his eyes.

_ Oh kriff oh kriff oh kriff what am I supposed to  _ do.

The Inquisitorius has both taken from and taught him many things.  Dealing with  _ this, _ however, is not one of them.

“M– Master?”

He looks back up.  The kid’s raised his gaze just enough to where he can meet Kanan’s eyes, but only barely.

“Yeah?”

“What am I supposed– supposed to do?”

Kanan nearly laughs.  Does  _ he _ look like he knows what to do?  The Inquisitorius has lied to them all, many, many times, but clearly this is his apprentice’s first time really  _ understanding _ that and all it entails.  Or maybe it’s simply the first time he’s cared that much about something.

He sighs, rubbing his eye with a hand.  “Honestly, kid? If you wanna know the truth, people lie.  All the time. Every day. You’re gonna have to get used to it.”  He has no other idea of what to say or do. “You learn to stand up again, to brush it off.  And you get stronger for it. Do some extra meditation exercises to distract yourself, if that helps.”  He stands, glancing back down at the boy. “It’s rough, kid. But you learn to do it, and do it well. Or you fail, and die.  And I know which one you’re  _ definitely _ capable of.”

The kid gives a slight nod, head bowed.  Kanan senses a ripple of  _ something _ from him in the Force, but it’s gone almost immediately.  He smiles slightly and leaves, flicking the holocam back on as he goes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually really like this chapter; it’s one of my favorites for sure. And Kanan’s not being insensitive on purpose, he just genuinely has no idea how to handle this type of situation and is doing so the only way he knows how.


	7. VII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Inquisitor's apprentice makes a rash decision that could very well result in his death.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Referenced Threat of Child Death

As soon as he can hear his master’s quiet breathing in the bed across from him, he throws the blankets off.

As quietly as he can, he stands on his bed, stopping when his master shifts in his sleep, brow twitching as he whispers something.  He remains still for a long moment, barely daring to breathe until he’s sure the man is back asleep.

He unscrews the bolts holding the air vent’s grate to the ceiling, risking another glance back at his master.  The man’s still asleep, though it’s restless; snippets of his nightmares always slip through to his side of their bond.  Swallowing back his fear, he stretches a hand out, calling his lightsaber to it and, stretching on his toes—and using the Force, too—slides the ‘saber hilt up the shaft and into one of the intersections.  He does the same with his boots, and then jumps up himself, pulling the grate with him and screwing the bolts back in. His master still hasn’t woken up, thankfully. Exhaling softly, he reaches a hand out and pulls his blanket up with the Force.  If he’s lucky, his master will just see the blanket pulled up and assume he’s already awake practicing somewhere. Which he is, in a way.

He crawls through the ventilation shafts, grimacing as he realizes just how much bigger he is now than the last time he pulled a stunt like this.  Admittedly, that stunt had ended with him on his back and one of Tano’s blades at his throat, thus discouraging him from doing it again any time soon.

He reaches the room he wants and stops, leaving his boots in the intersection of the shaft and pausing to turn the holocam off with the Force before he opens the grate and enters the cell below.  Azadi looks up, startled, and he takes a moment to realize that whatever the ISB’s been subjecting the rebel to, he likely still wasn’t expecting a barefoot Inquisitor to literally drop out of the ceiling.

“Bridger?  What are you—”

“Shh,” he hisses.  Azadi takes the hint.  He takes a step closer as the man shifts into a more upright position.  “Where’s the base?”

“Base?” he echoes.  “No. I’m not telling you where.”

“Then– then a cell, or  _ something, _ please.  I need to find...I need to find my parents,” he whispers.  Azadi’s gaze remains firm for a moment before he finally sighs.

“Alright.  C’mere.”

* * *

He takes a speeder as soon as he’s out of the building, pausing only long enough to slip his boots on before gunning the bike out of the complex.  He waves the gates aside easily, leaning low over the bike’s handlebars as he guides it through the streets. He’s the only noise in the Imperial District, but when he leaves the district he begins to hear sounds of other life.  A bar, still open late into the morning hours from what he remembers. A loth-cat picking through trash in an alley, hissing as he passes by.

One time, he knew all of these sounds as intimately as his own heartbeat.  Now, however, they’re as foreign as Huttese to him.

He nearly misses the turn to the spaceport, swinging around quickly and nearly careening into the wall as he enters it.  He shuts the bike off, climbing off and rubbing his eyes as he guides it over to a small cluster of other speeder bikes. He leaves it and returns his attention to scanning the spaceport.

He just needs a freighter he can get on.  Hitch a ride out on. And then he can get out of here.

He can find his  _ parents. _  If they’ll even still want anything to do with him, he thinks bitterly.

He keeps to the shadows as he walks through the spaceport.  He slows as he approaches a particularly large freighter, a Corellian VCX, maybe.  His master made him memorize several of the Corellian models a year or so ago, telling him it was good practice, however he’s forgotten most of them since.

The reason this one stands out, however, is that the ramp is down.

He casts a glance around and then, noticing a holocam on the overhang of the hangar, he reaches out and shuts it off with the Force.  He can’t see any others, so he takes the chance.

He bolts out of the shadows and races up the ship’s loading ramp, stumbling to a halt and openly gawking at the cargo bay.  The lights are motion triggered and now flood the area, illuminating walls with bright but slightly faded paint. There’s nowhere to hide that he sees, but he  _ does _ see an overhang into the cargo bay.  A ladder leads to the upper level of the ship and he moves toward it.  There might be a better spot to hide up there.

He’s almost to the ladder when the Force whispers a warning.  Immediately his gaze darts around for another hiding spot, landing on the overhang.  He dashes under it and jumps, using the Force to help him cling to the underside of the terrace above, sliding his lightsaber onto a small durasteel sheet that functions as a shelf for the weapon right as the quiet whirring of a droid enters his awareness.

He holds his breath as the droid approaches, stopping almost exactly above him and beeping quietly.  An astromech, maybe, if he’s just going off of the beeps and sound of the tread.

A Force signature sparks in his mind, too faint to be Force-sensitive, but also too faint to tell where it’s coming from or the being’s intent.  He resists the urge to shift nervously, instead swallowing.

Footsteps echo on the durasteel platform above him and finally stop next to the droid.  His grip on the support is weakening and he needs to readjust it, but he’s worried the sound will attract the attention of the pair above.

“What is it, Chopper?”

The droid beeps again, and he’s just as oblivious to its meaning.  It doesn’t sound like any of the droids he’s heard in the Inquisitorius, maybe  _ vaguely _ like a couple of the couriers he’s seen around the complex or on Destroyers...but that’s about it.

“No, Chop.  There’s no one down there.”  The droid beeps insistently again, warbling louder.  He takes the chance to shift his grip, biting his lip to keep himself silent.  “There’s no one,” the owner of the feminine voice repeats. “Your sensors must be jammed.  C’mon, I’ll check ‘em out for you before Zeb gets back.” The droid shrieks without warning and he nearly loses his grip in the shock, heart pounding as his eyes widen.  “Look, you can sit guard here all you want, but there’s  _ no one down there. _  I’m going to keep working on the console, comm me when Zeb comes.”  There’s the sound of something soft tapping metal and then more footsteps, only this time retreating.  From what he can tell, however, the droid remains. He sighs inwardly. This is going to be a long night.

* * *

Finally, he hears the droid trundle away, and allows a small smile to slip out.  He counts to thirty after he can’t hear anything, and then drops to the ground in a crouch as quietly as he can.  He calls his ‘saber back to his hand and walks to the ladder well, wringing his free hand before climbing. He stops at the top, pausing to stretch briefly before continuing through the freighter, searching for a storage closet or something he can hide out in for the duration of the journey.  He finds one and slips inside, opening the grate and climbing up. He summons his lightsaber to his hand, sliding himself back into the intersection of the air vents, and closing the grate behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is kind of an apology chapter for me not being able to post a chapter for Lack All Conviction this week due to revisions still being underway! Also a HUGE thank you to Silver Daye, who beta-ed this chapter (and all of this fic so far beyond what I wrote today) and helped me make sense of my half-formed thoughts xD


	8. VIII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While the Inquisitor can’t find his apprentice, Hera deals with a stowaway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Implied/Referenced Child Abuse

The kid isn’t there when he wakes up, but that’s normal.  Kanan rubs his eye, grabbing a crumpled undershirt from where it lies half under his bed and slipping it on as he stands.

He finishes getting dressed and slips his boots on, running a brush through his hair a couple of times before tying it back.  He summons his lightsaber, clipping it onto his belt on his way out of the room.

 _Kid?_ he asks, touching their bond gently.

There’s no reply.

Kanan slows, oblivious to the ‘troopers and officers passing him as he reaches out to their bond again, grabbing hold of it more firmly and searching for the kid’s signature.   _Kid, are you there?_

Still no response.

He decides to leave it alone for a minute, try and find the kid himself.  He absently searches for his apprentice’s signature as he walks to the training room in the barracks; he knows that as much as the kid hates ‘troopers, he often goes to their training room if he can’t sleep.  Something about working himself to the point of collapsing from exhaustion, he’d said once.

Unfortunately, the kid isn’t there.

And by now, Kanan’s realized that he has _no_ idea where his signature is.  It’s there, but also...not.

 _Apprentice, answer me._ Now.

Still no answer.  He’s getting irritated now, and a small part of him is worried.   _Why?  You know the kid, he wouldn’t go anywhe—_ oh.

He remembers their conversation yesterday.  Remembers telling the kid straight up that yeah, the Inquisitorius _does_ lie, and that they _don’t_ have control over his parents’ lives anymore.  Remembers that Azadi’s still in a relatively low security cell, and that the kid knows how to disable holocams.

Remembers how unstable he’s been since the Grand Inquisitor and Seventh Sister brutally pawed through his mind both as a form of punishment and a way to see if Tano had left any sign of her current whereabouts, rendering his apprentice mute for years.

He rushes to the surveillance center, waving his hand and bypassing the codes easily as he strides in.  One of the technicians turns to him, mouth opened to protest until she recognizes him.

“In– Inquisitor, wh—“

“Get me the feeds from X10’s cell and the perimeter for the last eighteen hours.   _Now._ ”

* * *

Of anything Hera expects to find when she goes to check how clean the air vents are, a skinny teenage boy falling out in a cloud of dust is _not_ one of them.

She steps back in surprise as the boy scrambles to his feet, dusting himself off.  He’s human, with close-cropped dark hair and a scar on his chin that stands out in stark white against his tanned skin.  It’s mirrored by a scar on his forehead, cutting a jagged line nearly to one eyebrow.

He’s also wearing what almost looks like _sleepwear,_ albeit with the _Imperial cog_ on his shoulder, and holding a now-ignited _lightsaber_ in his hand.  The tip nearly touches her and she takes another step back.

“Who are you?” she asks quickly, recovering from the initial shock as she places a hand on her blaster and draws it halfway.  The teen’s gaze flicks to it and then back to her.

“Are you putting the blaster down or am I going to have to make you?”

“Look, I don’t want to shoot you if I don’t have to.  Let’s talk this out,” Hera says in a neutral tone. The boy’s eyes narrow.

“No.”

“ _No?_ ” she asks, lekku twitching in open confusion.  “Because I don’t want to shoot you. And I don’t think you really want to kill me, either.”

“Why would– wouldn’t I?”

“Because there’d be no one flying this ship, for one.”

“I can pilot.”

“But can you pilot the _Ghost?_ ”

The lightsaber wavers before finally lowering.  The boy doesn’t turn it off, but at least it isn’t pointed at her face anymore.  Very carefully, she returns her blaster to its holster. His gaze tracks her movements, but almost in more of a fearful way than the predatory one he had had only moments ago.  Interesting.

“Sit down.”  She nods to the seat behind the co-pilot’s.  He still watches her, but she only crosses her arms and refuses to move until finally he sits, staring up at her with that same measured intensity.  “Who are you?”

“Does it matter?”

She’s almost surprised by the hollow quality of his voice, so different from the venomous tone it held a moment before.  She blinks. “I...yes, I would think it does.”

He shrugs.  “Okay.”

“That...still doesn’t answer my question.”

“I’m...I needed a ride.  Off– off Lothal.” He says the name oddly, with the same slight tilt to the vowels that the locals she’s heard use.

“Yes?” she prods.  There’s a quiet noise, and a quick glance down reveals that he’s turned his lightsaber off.

“That’s it,” he says bluntly.

“Do you have a name?”

He blinks.  “Uh….”

“Alright, don’t answer that one now.  But why _my ship?_ ”

“First one I saw,” he mumbles, shrugging again.  Her gaze hardens.

“And _that?_ ”

It takes him a moment to realize what she’s pointing to but when she does he almost jumps in surprise, glancing at the cog on his shoulder.  “Oh, th– that.”

“Why’re you here, _really?_ ”

“I told you, I need a ride.”

“And you couldn’t have just requisitioned an Imperial transport?”

“What do you mean?”  He’s horrible at playing dumb, apparently.

“Normal Imperials don’t carry lightsabers around.”

He nods slowly, gaze dropping to the weapon as he rolls it between his hands.  She tenses, but he doesn’t ignite it again. “I...found it.”

She snorts.  “Look, you have ten seconds to either tell me why an _Inquisitor_ is on _my ship,_ or I’m spacing you as soon as we drop out of hyperspace.”

He shifts uncomfortably.  “I told you, I needed a ride.”

“And as _I_ asked _you,_ _why do you need mine?_ ”

“Because maybe I’m not Imperial anymore, okay?!”  The suppressed fury in his gaze flashes as he meets her eyes again without warning, and Hera feels her heart stutter with fear for a moment.  “I don’t want anything to do with them. Not anymore.”

“And how do I know you’re not a spy?”

His gaze hardens.  “Because I’m telling you that I’m not.”

She studies him for a long moment, and then extends a hand, not missing the way the boy flinches violently.  “Your lightsaber.”

“No,” he snaps, grip tightening on the weapon.

“Your lightsaber, or I’m spacing you,” she threatens in return.  “I’m not getting rid of it, just keeping it until I decide what to do with you.”  They lock gazes for a long moment before his shoulders finally slump and he passes the weapon to her, fingers trailing across the ignition in a way that makes her tense.  But his grip leaves it without further complaint, and she clips it to her own belt before glancing back at him and drawing her blaster. He pales, shrinking back against the seat.

“I’m not shooting you.  Just get up, because I _am_ taking you somewhere.”  He stands, slowly, eyes narrowed as she motions for him to go ahead of her.  She opens the cockpit and he steps out, body tight with tension as she prods him in the direction of one of the empty cabins.  She keys the door open and gestures. The Inquisitor enters, shooting a glance over his shoulder that she returns with a hard stare.  Once he’s far enough into the cabin, she steps back to the door and allows him to turn.

“If you so much as _think_ about getting in the air vents again, I’m spacing you.  If you so much as _think_ about trying to kill us, I’m spacing you.  If you so much as _think_ about contacting the Empire, I’m spacing you.  Are we clear?”

He nods quickly.  Hera allows herself a small smile.

“Good.  Comm, please.”  His hand goes to his waist before he frowns, looking down in concern before meeting her gaze again with an expression so neutral it’s slightly worrying.

“I don’t ha– have it.”

“Of course you do.  You’re Imperial; calling for backup is what you _do._ ”

“Well, I _don’t._  You spacing me for that, too?”  His voice is suddenly rough, eyes flashing again.

“No.  But if my droid tells me you’ve sent any transmissions, or if you so much as _think_ about sending any, I’m spacing you.”

“Fine,” he responds, brows drawn together.  “No transmissions, no contact, no killing, no air vents.  I got it.”

“Good.  Someone will check on you in a couple of hours.”  Without another word, she steps out and closes the door, reprogramming the keypad quickly so that it only opens from the outside and responds to her and Zeb’s touches.  Chopper’s too easily bribed.

As Hera turns to go inform Zeb about their newest passenger, something on her belt clinks against the keypad.  She glances down with a frown before recognizing the item as the Inquisitor’s lightsaber.

Changing her mind, she heads to the cockpit instead, already mentally preparing her transmission to Fulcrum.

“ _Ghost_ to Fulcrum.”

Within moments, the garbled voice comes through.  “ _Fulcrum receiving,_ Ghost. _Go ahead._ ”

Hera can’t help the slight grimace as she begins.  “We ran into some complications on Lothal….”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well that was an interesting chapter....
> 
> Also rip Sabine but she’s coming up soon I promise!!!


	9. IX

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Inquisitor informs his master of his apprentice’s disappearance, and Sabine receives a summons.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Implied/Referenced Threat of Torture

“ _He did_ **what?!** ”

Kanan flinches visibly, trying and failing to choke back his fear as he gives a slight nod.  “L– left, my lord.”

“ _And you have_ no clue _where he went?_ ”

“No, my lord.  Azadi refused to speak, sir, and since my apprentice is gone...I’m not as effective at drawing out answers on my own.  My lord.”

“ _You have_ one week _to find him and bring him back to Mustafar.  He shall face his punishment, and you shall face yours.  If he does not come willingly, however...use whatever means necessary.  Your apprentice_ must _and_ will be _brought back.  Have I made myself clear?_ ”

He nods again, shaking.  “Of– of course, my lord.”

“ _And...the girl?_ ”

“My lord?”

The Grand Inquisitor sighs.  The sound still makes Kanan flinch back, heart stuttering for a moment.

“ _Wren.  The one working on Stardust._ ”

Oh.   _That_ girl.

“I am...working on that, my lord.  With the capture of Azadi...I was busy.”  His master snorts condescendingly.

“ _You need to straighten your priorities, Apprentice.  Very well. You have one week to search for the boy and return to finish the girl.  If you take longer than that to find him, you will return your focus to Wren and someone else will retrieve the boy.  Am I clear?_ ”

“Of course, Master.”

“ _Do not fail me._ ”  The holoprojector clicks off and he lets out a relieved sigh, barely noticing the trembling of his hand as he brushes a stray hair back.  He rises, pocketing the projector as he leaves the room.

* * *

Sabine frowns, redoing the calculations and still getting the same results.  She sighs heavily and runs a hand through her hair. They _should_ be working, now that she’s taken away the lattice structure and replaced it with—

“Wren.”

She turns at the call, stiffening at the sight of the older Inquisitor.  She raises an eyebrow.

“My lord?”

The man stops in front of her, a faint smirk curling the corners of his mouth.  “You learn fast.”

“I’m in Advanced Weapons Research.  What were you expecting?”

Surprisingly, he retains his smirk, despite her tone.  “Come with me.”

“Why?  I’m supposed to be working on—”

“That’s an order, Wren.”

She studies him, not bothering to hide her suspicion before she finally turns back to the holotable and closes the programs before shutting it down completely.  He leads the way out of R and D, and she’s confused as to where he’s taking her after a couple of unfamiliar turns. She opens her mouth to ask when her commlink chirps.  Answering it, she doesn’t check the frequency—though at the sound of the voice on the other end, she wishes she had.

“ _Wren._ ”  The distinct voice of Director Krennic echoes from the comm.

“Director!” she answers, regretting her eagerness only moments later.   _This is the director of the entirety of Stardust, Sabine.  Calm down._

“ _Report to the_ Siren _in orbit immediately.  Your team is being moved up._ ”

She feels the Inquisitor tense behind her, but she’s mostly just surprised.  “I thought the Empire wanted us to keep researching here. And what about Wessiri?”

“ _You’re being moved.  Wessiri has been...replaced._ ”  The way Krennic says the word makes her uneasy; he sounds almost nervous saying it himself.  “ _You’re chief of development now, Wren.  Be on the_ Siren _in half an hour.  There’s only so long we can wait for preliminary testing._ ”  The comm cuts off abruptly, and she stares at it in surprise.  The Inquisitor behind her clears his throat and she turns.

“You should go.”

“He gave me a half hour.”

“I can discuss what I meant to with you later,” he says, gaze intense in a way that dares her to challenge him.  She holds his gaze a moment longer before finally nodding, pocketing her comm.

She leaves him with only a half-glance over her shoulder thrown in his direction, heading to the hangar as fast as she can without running.  Krennic is waiting for her, for her team. _Krennic,_ the director of the entire Stardust project, is waiting for _her,_ for _her_ team.

She barely starts to tell the pilot the reason she has for going to the _Siren_ when he nods, gesturing for her to sit.  “They already told us,” he explains as he begins the startup procedures.  Sabine nods slowly.

They arrive on the Destroyer and she’s barely off of the shuttle when half a squadron of stormtroopers appear, one introducing them as her escort up to Krennic.  She doesn’t question it; the man must have his reasons. They arrive on the command bridge, leaving two of Krennic’s death troopers to take her from there. He stands at the far end of the bridge, cape and uniform stark white against the darkness of space and the smoldering void that is Lothal.

The troopers stop two meters away, and her with them, forcing herself to roll her shoulders back as he turns slowly.

“Congratulations, Miss Wren.”

“...excuse me?”

“You’ve been promoted, of course.”  There’s something in his eyes that sets her slightly on edge, but she brushes it off.  Just leftover nerves from the Inquisitors’ presence the past week or so.

“Oh.  Thank you.”  There’s an awkward silence as the two study each other, and she remembers the last time she saw him in person, an overeager half-cadet leaving Mandalore for a backwater rock to research crystals for the Empire.  She finally comes up with a way to continue the conversation. “So...is there a reason I was summoned, sir? Beyond your congratulations, of course.”

“Yes, there is.”  His eyes spark slightly, as if he was waiting for that realization to hit.  He takes a step closer. “You are going to witness history being made.”

“...sir?”

“Admiral, set heading for coordinates Oh Dash Seven,” Krennic announces.  He glances back at her. “We have discovered a rebel base, thanks to that criminal you and the Inquisitor captured a few days ago—and excellent job on that, as well.  You’ve improved greatly since your Academy days.” One part of her can’t help but feel a slight swell of pride at the comment, while the other part is trying to puzzle out the coordinates—she _knows_ they’re familiar, knows them as well as she knows the trajectory calculations for Stardust, knows them like she knows _beskar’gam_ means corpse and Wren means traitor.  But she can’t place them.

“And now we are on our way to _destroy_ that base.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kanan was gonna murder Sabine right there if Krennic hadn’t commed, just letting y’all know :)


	10. X

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hera and her crew reach the _Phoenix Home_ with the Inquisitor's apprentice in tow.

He barely senses the signature outside the door before it opens, a tall, purple-furred alien stepping in.  He grabs for his lightsaber out of instinct, freezing when he realizes it’s not there. He shifts, a slow, halting motion, into a sitting position on top of the bunk.  The man’s ears twitch.

“Hera sent me with this, told me to tell ya to eat.”  The man raises a ration bar, then moves as if to toss it before reconsidering and setting it on the floor.  Without another word, the man leaves, and he’s left with the noise of the lock re-engaging and the echoes of hurried footsteps departing.  He casts a wary glance at the ration bar.

It could be poisoned.  In fact, everything except the Force is telling him that it _is_ poisoned.

The Force, however, says that it’s not.

Normally his instincts and the Force agree with each other, so he’s not sure what to do.  He resigns himself to sitting on the bunk and staring at it, pulling his knees to his chest and hugging them as he rests his chin on top.

This is going to be a long ride.

It’s a long while later—maybe a few hours or maybe a full day, he’s not sure—when he feels the familiar jolt of a ship dropping into realspace.  He releases his knees and drops his legs to the floor, standing and stretching briefly as he tries to guess at where they’ve arrived to. Unfortunately, he has little experience with various travel times from Lothal.

He sits, settling in to wait once more.

* * *

“ _Clearance granted,_ Ghost. _Welcome home._ ”

Hera reaches a hand up and starts the landing procedures, guiding the _Ghost_ toward the ship with her free hand.  Zeb clears his throat, rising and approaching.  “What’re we doin’ with the Imp?”

“Fulcrum said she has a cell ready for him, and we can interrogate him whenever we’re ready.  She said she’d like to talk to him alone first, but then Command can do what they want.” Zeb nods, and Hera flicks one last switch as the _Ghost_ lights onto the floor of the hangar.  She shuts the ship down before standing, grabbing the Inquisitor’s lightsaber and stretching briefly.  Glancing back at Zeb, she says, “Let’s go.”

They meet a group made up of a hodgepodge of pilots, genuine foot soldiers, and even the odd defector and medic.  The rebellion in a nutshell, Hera thinks with a wry smile.

“He’s in here.”  She leads them up the ladder, gesturing to the door of the cabin upon reaching it.  She palms the lock but waits to open the door until two of the group members step forward, one nodding as the other pulls out a pair of binders.  She opens it.

The group immediately crowds in, and she follows behind but waits at the door.  The Inquisitor is sitting on the bunk, originally at the edge, though now he’s quickly backing up into a corner as the pilot with the binders approaches him.

“Don’t make a scene,” another of the rebels barks, and the Inquisitor turns his glare on them.  He raises a hand but then catches sight of Hera and it wavers before finally dropping. He still doesn’t make their job easier, however—they’re forced to pull him to the forefront of the bunk and push him to his feet in order to cuff his wrists behind his back.  He glares at all of them but doesn’t object otherwise. When they move to push him out of the room, however, he roughly throws their grips off.

“I can walk by myself,” he growls.  This is, apparently, the one freedom they allow him, because one of the guards moves in front to lead the way out into the hangar.

Hera waits until they leave before checking every aspect of the room.  She finds the ration bar she sent Zeb with earlier and her mouth twists into a slight frown at its untouched appearance.  She would’ve thought that the Inquisitor would have gotten hungry while here...but apparently not. Do Inquisitors even eat?  She has no clue.

Finally she simply pockets the ration bar and leaves the _Ghost,_ knowing Chopper’s likely recharging while Zeb catches up with old contacts.  She makes her way up to the bridge of _Phoenix Home,_ nodding to one of the Mandalorians stationed in their cell as she passes them.  The Wren boy, maybe, but it’s hard to tell with their helmet on. She rounds the last corner before the bridge and stops in surprise before offering the Togruta woman ahead of her a wide smile.

“Hera, I’m glad you’re back safe,” Ahsoka says, moving to her in a few short steps.  They embrace before pulling back, and Hera raises an eyebrow in realization.

“Are you going to the Inquisitor?”

“Yes.  Is he already in a cell?”

“I’m not sure; they’d already left with him by the time I left my ship.”

“Hmm.  I’ll check in with one of the group, then.”  She turns to leave before pausing, glancing back at Hera.  “Did you want to come supervise? Since you were stuck on a ship with him.”

“I..that would be interesting, yes.  Sure. I’ll come.” Ahsoka gives her a fanged grin and Hera turns, the two setting off for the detention block.  Halfway there, however, klaxons start blaring with no warning. Ahsoka’s hand jumps to her ‘saber and Hera’s to her blaster as the two immediately go back to back, searching for the threat.  “Do you know what happened?” Ahsoka calls to a pilot running from the bridge. He pauses long enough to turn and respond, and the wide-eyed fear on his face makes Hera’s blood run cold.

“No, only that it came from the detention block.  They wanted any of us who could on the fighters.” He turns and continues jogging, and Hera exchanges a brief glance with Ahsoka before the two women take off running.

When they reach the detention block, they meet a pair of flustered guards, one of the Mandos and a Gotal.

“I– I promise we tried to stop him—“

“It’s fine,” Ahsoka interrupts.  “Where is he now?”

“He went to the hangar.”  The Mando is the one who answers this time, and Hera realizes with a shock that their holster is empty.  He’s more dangerous than she thought if he can steal a _blaster_ from a _Mandalorian._  “He’s armed, too.”

“Thank you,” Hera says, sincerity evident in her voice, before turning around alongside Ahsoka to head back to the hangar.

They reach it just as a fighter is leaving, and Hera curses when it jumps into hyperspace as they watch.

“Tell Sato to scramble the fighters,” Ahsoka says, still watching the space where the fighter was only moments ago.  “I’m going after him.”


	11. XI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sabine returns to a familiar planet while the Inquisitor finds himself dealing with civilians.

The Destroyer drops into realspace with the faintest of jolts.  It takes Sabine a moment to realize what’s ahead of them, but when she does….

“Holy kriff,” she murmurs.

“How long has it been since you’ve seen your homeworld now, hmm?”  Krennic comes up behind her, standing at her shoulder. “It’s changed a lot.”

“Yeah, it’s...different.”  She swallows, unwilling to risk correcting Krennic as she bites her lip.  She stares at the dust-colored world. It’s  _ smothered _ by the Empire—Star Destroyers cut across space, their dagger-esque shapes hovering menacingly as if suspended—whether by belief or by fear, she’s not sure.  Imperial cruisers and shuttles go back and forth between ships and the planet though, she notices, far less are going  _ to _ the planet than  _ from _ it.

“Dir– Director?” she asks in a trembling voice.  “Why aren’t any shuttles going  _ to _ the planet?”

Krennic’s smirk unsettles her.  “I told you we were going to destroy the rebel base here, did I not?”

“Yes, but...there’s no rebel base here.”

His smirk widens.  “You’ll see.” He glances away from her, back out the viewport.  “You’ll see.”

* * *

Kanan continues through the spaceport, face stony as he cuts through the crowd without interference.  His lightsaber hilt is clipped plainly to his belt, fully visible to anyone coming toward him. Someone heading the same way as him shoulders past him roughly, stumbling.  “Sorry, sir!”

His hand snaps out, snatching the kid’s wrist before he can slip away.  “Not so fast,” he growls.

The kid keeps his face down as he struggles, trying to get away, but Kanan merely grabs his other wrist in the same hand.  “Come with me.”

“I’m not going with some  _ kriffing— _ ”

“Quiet,” Kanan snarls.  He leads the kid over to the wall surrounding the spaceport and pins his arms above his head.  “Look, listen to me. I have a quick question, and then you can leave, alright?”

The kid finally looks up at him, lip curled into a sneer.  Kanan’s taken aback for a moment at the scar running along the boy’s cheek, so similar to the one on his own apprentice’s chin—

No.  This isn’t that kid, this is  _ another _ kid.  He needs to get everything straight, his priorities, his train of thought, his—

“I  _ said _ what’s your question you kriffing spacer!” the kid yells, interrupting his train of thought.

“Alright kid, calm down.  How often are you around here?”

“Why should I kriffing tell you?”

“Kid, you can either tell me, and we can both be on our way, or you can just  _ not _ tell me, and I can drag you into Imperial custody for questioning.”

The kid scoffs, squirming uselessly in an effort to loosen Kanan’s grip.  “You’d care enough to turn me into a bunch of kriffing Imps because I won’t answer your kriffing questions?!”

“Yeah, actually, because I  _ am _ one.”  He taps the Imperial cog on his pauldron with his free hand, and from the kid’s reaction he can guess that he didn’t notice it until now.  The kid goes limp for a moment and then begins struggling anew, even going so far as to attempt to kick him. Kanan merely moves to the side, raising an eyebrow.

“Look, I’ll even  _ pay _ you to answer it.  All I want are answers, okay?”  The kid continues to glare at him, a look he saw on his apprentice’s face so many times before the Tano incident.  Now, however….

“How much?”

“Enough that you wouldn’t need to steal for a few days.  And I could pay off some of the local officials to turn a blind eye to your...profession.”  The kid goes still again, finally raising a brow.

“Alright.  You asked how often I’m around?”

“Yes.”

“Every day, mostly.  Not always on Thursdays because there’s less traffic, but.”  The kid shrugs as best as he can despite Kanan’s grip, and he loosens it slightly.  “Where’s my kriffing money?”

“Just a minute, I have another couple questions.”  The kid rolls his eyes and mutters an expletive under his breath that Kanan ignores.  “Were you here two days ago?”

He snorts.  “Yeah.”

“When?”

“During the day, mostly.  Came back for a bit at night to see if they’d let me squat.”

“Do they normally?”

“No.”

“Did they then?”

He rolls his eyes.  “No, ‘course not. They were busy with something already.”

“And what was that?”   
“I dunno.  They said their cams caught something.”

_ Kriff. _  “Caught what?  Did they tell you what?”

The kid snorts again, dark hair shifting to fall over one side of his face.  “Nope. Just told me to scram. I heard ‘em yelling at some spacer though.”

“What did his ship look like?”

“Look, Imp, you think I paid attention?  He wasn’t a mark and he wasn’t a threat. Just another part of the background.  He was parked there though, next to the VCX.” The kid nods to a spot over Kanan’s shoulder and he turns to see the landing bay the kid must be referring to.  There’s enough room for several freighters, and the only one in the actual bay looks like it landed recently. Kanan turns back to the kid.

“Did you see a boy?”

“A  _ boy? _  There’s kriffing  _ loads _ of boys out here, you’d have to be more specific,” the kid scoffs.

“No, one– one with dark hair, kind of like yours but different, he has a scar here and here and his skin’s a bit lighter than mine and he’s about this tall—”

“Look, if I saw him, I forgot him, yeah?  ‘Sides, you don’t notice any kriffing details in the dark.”

Kanan withholds a sigh and shoots another glance behind him before slipping his free hand into a pocket, withdrawing several credit bars.  The kid’s eyes widen and Kanan releases his wrists, however he withholds the bars a second longer. “If you remember anything, tell one of the other Imps around.  And you’ll get double this.” The boy nods quickly and Kanan drops the credits into his waiting hand. “I’ll tell them to pay less attention to you.”

“Sure, thanks,” the kid mutters, already ducking under his arm and worming his way through the crowd again.  Kanan sighs, rubbing the back of his neck and setting off to find whoever passes for a security guard here. The kid can keep the credits he stole earlier.  Not as if they’d do Kanan himself much good anyway.

* * *

“Director, why aren’t we sending any shuttles down?  If we’re supposed to be destroying the base—“

“Patience, Wren.  All will be revealed in time.”  His non-answer only increases her anxiety.  However, she falls silent and bites her lip anyway, watching as the Destroyers ahead of them begin to move back.

“Director!  Massive object emerging from hyperspace.”

“That will be them.  Wren, observe.” Krennic doesn’t acknowledge the ensign’s warning, only continues to stare out the viewport.  Still uneasy, Sabine’s gaze follows.

It’s only about five minutes before all the Destroyers are away from the planet.  She risks another glance up at Krennic out of the corner of her eye, but he appears not to notice.  “Director, they’ve said they’re ready.”

Krennic inhales sharply, seeming to draw himself up more.  “Alright. You may fire when ready. Target...Sundari.”


	12. XII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The apprentice confronts the person who’s been watching him.

He knows the man’s been watching him ever since he first found the alley.

He sticks mostly to the back, away from the worst of the sandstorms and activity of the streets.  For the most part, no one bothers him, and he doesn’t bother them. Slavers tried to once, within the first couple days of his arrival.

No one’s tried since.

Water’s the hardest part, though he stole some from a moisture farmer’s speeder stopped outside his alley when they looked the other way.  That was three days ago, and he’s been out for a day by now.

But this man in particular has been watching him a little  _ too _ closely.

He decides to confront him on his fifth day there.  The apprentice waits for the man to appear again, curling up near a trash incinerator and pretending to be asleep.  The man shows up, predictably, glancing over long enough to register his location before leaving. He slips out of the alley, heedless of the looks his now-ragged set of sleepwear—complete with the Imperial cog on its shoulder—draws as he stumbles through the streets.

The man’s far ahead of him now, and drawing further away, even though he doesn’t seem to be speeding up.  He frowns at that, trying to push through the crowd faster, though without his master and the armor that clearly marks him as an Inquisitor, albeit one in training—not to mention the lightsaber usually clipped to his belt—it’s hard.  The heat and lack of water don’t help, either.

The man catches up with someone and slows, a...Wookiee?  He’s never seen one in person, only in holos. The maybe-Wookiee groans, gesturing, and the man responds loudly and gestures behind him in reply.  The apprentice continues, speeding up as much as he can. Something in the Force warns him, but he’s too exhausted and dehydrated to pay much attention to what it’s telling him specifically.  Instead, he remembers something his master taught him in their first few years together.

_ “If the Force won’t tell you what’s wrong with someone, find out in other ways.” _

_ “What’re you saying, Master?” _

_ The man grins, holding up one of his apprentice’s own code cylinders.  He feels his pocket, shocked to feel only two instead of the typical three.  “Pick their pocket.” _

He continues forward, slowing down, and trying to keep his ears open to the conversation between the man and the Wookiee at the same time as he tries to get close enough to them to find something concrete out.

“That’s  _ not _ what I’m  _ saying, _ Chewie!  I’m  _ saying _ I think we should just go tell someone about him, maybe make sure he isn’t  _ dyi— _ “

The Wookiee groans, and the apprentice takes the chance to slip his hand into the human’s pocket.  He pulls something out and, too exhausted to think clearly, makes the mistake of looking at the item immediately instead of waiting.  It’s a small, round disk, with markings on it from a language he doesn’t recognize—Huttese, maybe? The half-fried nav system on the starfighter he’d stolen to get here had said he was on Tatooine.  And from what he remembers of what his master made him memorize of politics, Tatooine’s in Hutt space.

Something grasps his wrist roughly and he starts, glancing up and blinking dumbly into the eyes of the dark-haired human.

“You trying to rob me, kid?”

“I wasn’t—“

“Chewie—“

A shot fires, landing too close to the apprentice’s foot.  He yelps at the near-miss and spray of sand that ensues, stumbling back as the man’s forced to release his arm.  He lands heavily, head smacking into the ground. The last thing he sees is more sand showering into the air as the man draws a blaster and begins to open fire.

* * *

Half-formed figures appear in the edges of his vision and he groans, shifting and trying to sit up.

“Chewie, grab the kid before he does anything to get himself killed again!”  The Wookiee groans in reply, and he feels strong arms lifting him from the sand.  He flinches, violently but weakly struggling to get away as he mumbles incoherently, but the grip doesn’t loosen.  “I’ll take care of our frie—“

He passes out again.

* * *

He wakes up for the second time in what almost seems like a medbay.

But no, he doesn’t go to medbays, never has, not since the Grand Inquisitor handed him off to his current master.  Thankfully, his new master knows better than to push him to the point where he’s bleeding out or unable to walk.

So why is he in  _ this _ one?

A door slides open across the room and he jumps, turning to see...a Wookiee?

Everything comes back.  He tenses as the Wookiee approaches, eyeing it warily.

“I won’t be able to understand you,” he says quietly.  The Wookiee shrugs, approaching and roaring something. The apprentice shrugs in response, and the Wookiee studies him for a long moment before turning and roaring in the direction of the door.  There’s a distant clang, and then the human yells, “I’m coming!”

He appears soon after, adjusting his jacket as he steps into the medbay and finally looks up at the apprentice.  He flinches back again as the man approaches, still hesitant to sit up in case the Wookiee decides he’s pushing it.

“How’re you doin’, kid?”

“Fine,” he says in a quiet voice, tone kept carefully neutral.  “When can I leave?”

The man snorts.  “Leave? Kid, you’ve got over half the bounty hunters on this rock lookin’ for you!  And after Chewie and I just saved your neck back there, I’m not ditching you only to have the Empire show up because some kid of theirs died.”

“I’m  _ not _ Imper—“

“Then what’s that mean?  That’s not one of the crime syndicates, at least not any one  _ I _ know of.”  He gestures to the cog on the apprentice’s shoulder and he shifts, unconsciously covering it.

“Just let me leave, and no one gets hurt.”

“We’re in hyperspace right now.  You couldn’t leave anyway, not till we drop out.”  He sighs as the man stares down at him before his gaze slides to the Wookiee.

“Can I get up at least?”

“Sure, yeah.”  The man gestures for the Wookiee to move back along with him as the apprentice sits up, rubbing his arm.  “When was the last time you drank anything?” He shrugs, and the man sighs. “No wonder you passed out. Here, I’ll get you some.  Just hold on a sec.” He disappears, and the apprentice glances up at the Wookiee. The Wookiee shrugs.

The man returns after a few minutes, tossing him a water canister.  He catches it easily, popping it open and sniffing. The Force isn’t warning him, so hesitantly he takes a small sip.  He takes another and then puts the lid back on, handing the canister back. The man shakes his head.

“I don’t want you passing out again, kid.”

“I won’t.  But I’ll get sick if I drink it all.”  The man watches him for a moment longer before taking the canister and tossing him a bundle of fabric in return.  “What’re these?”

“Clothes.  And they’re mine, so don’t ruin ‘em, got it?”  He nods slowly. “Put ‘em on and meet me and Chewie in the cockpit when you’re ready.”  He nods, glancing down at the bundle before his eyes snap back up as the pair turns to leave.

“Wait, I...I didn’t get your names.”

“Chewie, Han,” Han introduces, jerking a thumb at the Wookiee before pointing it at himself.  “You got one?”

“Uh….”

“We’ll figure something out.”  He waves a hand in dismissal. The newly-named Chewie leaves but the apprentice clears his throat before Han’s all the way out.  The man sighs, turning and leaning against the doorframe. “What, kid?”

“The ship...are we the only ones on it?”

Han snorts, tapping his fingers against the frame.  “Yeah. It’s mine.” Han turns again, and he calls after the man after he’s already out.

“Wait, what’s her name?”

“The  _ Millenium Falcon, _ kid.  Welcome aboard the  _ Millenium Falcon, _ ” Han calls back.  “And she did the Kessel Run in twelve parsecs!”


	13. XIII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The apprentice gets a name and Sabine finds the truth of her research.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Implied/Referenced Massacre

Han glances back as the cockpit door opens to reveal the kid.  His own clothes are slightly too big on the teen; the off-white shirt’s sleeves go halfway down his hands and he appears to have hiked the pants halfway up his torso.  Han lets a faint smirk out as he turns back to the windscreen, gesturing to the pair of seats behind him and Chewie. “Sit down, kid.” The kid doesn’t move for a minute, and then Han hears him hesitantly approach a seat, though he still doesn’t sit.  Great. It’s one of  _ those _ kids.  He sighs.  “You aren’t seeming any tougher for refusing to sit, kid.  Just making yourself more uncomfortable. And,” he takes his feet off the console and turns in his seat to see the kid straight on as he points to him, “I don’t want you fainting on my ship again.”

He remains standing until Han sighs once more and turns back around.  And of kriffing course it’s only  _ then _ that the kid sits, the movement barely visible in the reflection on the windscreen.

“So, kid.  Name.”

“I...don’t have one.”

Han snorts incredulously, turning around again.  “A last name’s understandable, but not even a first name?  A nickname? Where  _ were _ you, kid?”

He shrugs, clearly uncomfortable as he replies in a terse voice.  “A name was unnecessary.”

“Kriff, kid, you talk like a  _ senator. _  Loosen up, yeah?”

There’s no reply from the now-silent teen and Han shifts forward slightly.

“Well, we gotta find you a name.”

“Why should it matter?  It’s not like I’ll need one.”

“Why should it— _ kriff, _ kid, you really  _ are _ a senator, and just as bad at  _ lying _ as them, too.  But we can use that.”  He emphasizes the statement with another pointed finger, this time making the kid flinch backward.  He pretends not to notice. “You can’t honestly think you’ll do fine without one. What am I supposed to call you, just ‘kid?’  Because trust me, it’s getting annoying to me, too.”

The teen remains silent, and Chewie groans something in what passes for quiet in Shyriiwook.  Han waves a hand in dismissal.

“Yeah, no way I’m callin’ him that,  _ I _ can’t even say that and I can actually under _ stand _ you, unlike pipsqueak over here.”  Han snaps his fingers, pointing at the teen again as he leans forward.  “We could call you Pipsqueak.”

“ _ No, _ ” he says flatly.  Han shrugs, leaning back in his chair again and putting his arms behind his head.

“Alright.  You give me a name, or I’m callin’ you Pipsqueak.”

The kid shoots him a dark, menacing glare—one that Han would  _ swear _ promises violence, only it disappears too fast upon the kid sighting Chewie again for him to be sure.

“I...I can’t.”

He raises an eyebrow.  “What’re you trying to tell me?”

The kid splays his hands across his legs, trembling but almost acting like he doesn’t notice.  “You can come up with one, just– just not  _ that _ one.”

“Okay.”  He shares a glance with Chewie before looking back at the kid.  “Uh….” He racks his brain and says the first name he thinks of.  “Beckett. Wait, no, sod it.” The kid’s brows draw together in the closest Han’s seen him come to open, conscious confusion thus far.  “Um...Dev….Dev. How does that sound?”

The kid shrugs.  “Sure.”

“You can’t be this apathetic about everything, kid, sheesh.  We need a surname for you, too.”

“I thought you said I didn’t need one.”

“Well, now you do.  It gives you more credit.  For all you know, there’s another Dev out there, one with a worse rep than yours.  How does Morgan sound?”

“All right.”

“I want to know that you’re absolutely  _ sure _ you like it, though.  Most of the time, people don’t get to pick their own names.  This time, you do.”

He shrugs again.  “I’m fine with it.”  Han silently wonders what it’ll take to get an actual  _ reaction _ out of the kid.  Forcing a smile, he claps his hands abruptly.  The kid jumps.

“Now.  Who are you, and where’re you from?”

“I’m...I’m not with the Empire, and I’m from– from the Outer Rim.”

“No.  Too common, too specific.  You’re from Carajam, and no one knows where or what the kriff that is, so all  _ you _ need to know about it is that it’s a desert.  No one’s gonna fact check you—or if they are, they’re people you’d rather avoid anyway.  You’re the kid of some...moisture farmers, yeah, we’ll go with that. Got bored of it, so you started planethopping till you found a job with me.”

“But I didn’t—“

Han holds up a hand.  “Yeah, you did. Maybe whoever you were before didn’t, but Dev Morgan did.”

“I— _ oh. _ ”  He sees the moment the kid gets it, his eyes widening in almost comical fashion as he nods vigorously.  “Ye– yes, okay, sure.”

“Good.  We need to do something about those clothes, too, because no way your rep’s gonna last long with  _ that. _ ”  He nods to the large, glaring dirt stain on the side of the shirt, though he doesn’t remember where it’s from.  “I’ll find you something else.”

“Okay.”  The kid shrugs again.

“Also, drop the shrug.  It’s annoying. And you got any tells, kid?”

His brow furrows.  “‘Tells?’” he echoes.

_ Kriff, this is gonna take a while. _  “Yeah, tells.  Like, uh, rubbing your finger when you’re lying.  Tapping your nose when you’re lying. Doing  _ something _ when you’re lying.  You know. Tells.”

“Um...I don’t know.”

“Alright, we can figure that one out.  Chewie, am I missing anything?”

The Wookiee groans in reply and Han snaps his fingers.  “Yeah, that. Kid, look, here’s the thing—I won’t ask questions, but I  _ do _ need to know a couple things.  You got any parents?”

The teen—Dev, he reminds himself—bristles.  “No. Not any that– that would want me.” He glances away, some of his façade falling, and Han almost feels bad for him.  Not actually, of course, because it’s not like he  _ cares _ for the kid...not really.

“Alright.  Uh, anyone who might notice you’re missing, period?”

He shakes his head.  “Not anyone I want to be around.”

He blows a long stream of air out.  “You know why the bounty hunters on Tatooine nearly shot us up tryin’ to get to you?”

“I– no, no I don’t.”  The brief hesitation is enough to pique Han’s interest again, even as the boy shakes his head.  “No.”

“One last one, then you need to drink some more—why was the cog on your shoulder?”

The teen becomes uncomfortable, gaze skittering across the floor as he shifts.  “It’s...a long story. But I’m not– not with the Empire.” His gaze shoots up. “Don’t make me go back.  Please,  _ please _ don’t make me go back.”

“Alright, alright,  _ easy, _ kid.  I won’t, and neither will Chewie.  You’re safe here.”

* * *

When the green superlaser hits Mandalore, Sabine doesn’t know  _ what _ to think.

It seems to take forever, but she knows it’s only a few minutes at most—knows because  _ she made this  _ monstrosity—until the laser is gone and the cloud of debris is beginning to settle.

Krennic’s slow clapping is what pulls her out of mind.  She can’t take her eyes off the cloud of– of  _ things—not people, not people— _ drifting up toward them.  Her mouth feels dry and warm and wet and acidic all at once and her head’s throbbing and she’s sweating and her stomach’s roiling as she tries to comprehend—

“Miss Wren, I would like to congratulate you.”

She’s brought back to reality— _ the same reality that millions of people  _ died by your hand _ in— _ by Krennic’s voice and she swallows, glancing up at him.  There’s scattered applause from elsewhere, too, but she’s too numb to notice where it originates.

“Wh– why, Director?”  Her voice is hollow and empty, even to her own ears.

“On the Death Star’s success, of course.  It performed quite remarkably, if I do say so myself.”

“Death...Star?”

He’s impatient.  She doesn’t care.  “Yes, the Death Star.  Stardust was its working title.”

The Death Star.  Project Stardust.  She knows those words, somehow.  She’s not sure how.

She knows  _ aruetii, _ too.

“May I go to my quarters?” she finds herself asking.  She doesn’t recognize herself, knows that her mouth’s moving but can’t tell if it’s her making the words come out.

Krennic stares at her for a long minute before finally nodding slowly.  “You may.”

She turns, makes herself walk.  She’s halfway to the lift when Krennic calls her back.  She finds herself turning.

“You’re being summoned by Grand Moff Tarkin.  To the Death Star.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)


	14. XIV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ahsoka returns from her search as Han and the apprentice continue to figure each other out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The second and third scenes both take place about two months after the last scene with Ezra and Han because time moves differently across space.
> 
> TW: Leg Trauma (non-graphic), Referenced Genocide

Ahsoka steps out of the fighter, removing her helmet and approaching Hera.  The latter’s lekku twitch slightly as she takes in Ahsoka’s grim expression.

“I take it you didn’t find him?”

The Togruta shakes her head.  “No. Not yet, at least. But we didn’t lose any pilots, either, so.”  She offers a tight smile. “It could have been worse.”

“It could have,” Hera agrees, gaze shifting over Ahsoka’s shoulder to scan the other pilots getting out of their fighters.

“Did Sato have you do anything while we were gone?”

Hera begins to shake her head before stopping, instead shrugging.  “In a way. He wanted me to help him organize patrols with who stayed behind, since most of the fighters were gone.”

“What do you mean, ‘wanted you to?’  Did you end up doing something else?”

“...yes.”  Hera sighs.  “We got a tip-off that the Inquisitor that escaped from us was seen on Belsavis.  We couldn’t raise you on the comms, so he had me try and confirm it with another contact.”

Ahsoka frowns.  “I can go after him again.”

“I’m going with you this time.”

“Hera, you can’t, we have another mission and you’re too imp—“

“You are, too!” she points out.  “Sato wanted me to go since I’ve actually interacted with him.”

“And I stand a chance against him.”  She sighs and rubs her forehead. “Someone transmitted the coordinates of the artifact while we were out, too.  I’m not sure who it was, but...I don’t think they were lying. The Force is telling me they were right.

“But it needs a Force-sensitive to retrieve it.”

Hera’s mouth twists into a frown.  “You’d know I’d volunteer, but if it needs a Force-sensitive—”

She cuts the Twi’lek off, smiling faintly.  “I know. I hate asking you, but if you’re comfortable...would you go after the Inquisitor on your own?”  The captain nods.

“Of course, Ahsoka.”

“Alright, back out it is I suppose.”  Hera cracks a small smile, already turning to leave and grab her helmet when the Force wielder continues.  “And bring his lightsaber.”

* * *

“Kid!   _Duck!_ ”

Dev drops his head instantly, and not a moment too soon—the blaster bolt sails over his head, slamming into the crate ahead of him.  The durasteel blackens from the blow, but doesn’t appear harmed aside from that. Dev raises his head again and continues pushing the crate forward, turning and shooting his own blaster back at the gang members chasing them.

“Hurry up!”

“I’m coming!”

“We’re leaving whether you’re here or not in thirty seconds, so _get a move on,_ kid!”

At the threat of abandonment, Dev speeds up, heart racing as he hears the swoop bikes gaining.  The _Falcon’_ s ramp is only forty meters away, now thirty, now twenty as he gives the crate an extra push—

Pain flares in his leg and he yelps, stumbling.  It’s brief, but long enough for another lethal blaster charge to hit home on his lower calf.  He narrowly bites back a scream as he collapses to his unhurt knee, trembling slightly as he rises and moves to run to the ramp.

A swoop bike cuts him off, hovering in front of him as he staggers back.  The bike’s rider levels a blaster at him.

Without thinking, Dev makes a gesture, as if throwing the bike to the side.  The Force obeys his order, sending the swoop bike hurtling several hundred meters away.  He turns around to the remaining bikes and does the same to them, a snarl forming on his face before he realizes it and turns, staggering back into the ship.  He slams a fist against the ramp controls and secures the crate before heading to the cockpit on trembling legs. He makes it to the dejarik table before collapsing, leaning heavily on it as he grits his teeth.

“ _Kid, I need you on the guns!_ ” Han yells over the shipwide comm.  Dev doesn’t respond immediately, just tries to get himself back under control to the point where he can stand without screaming.

He finally succeeds, staggering to the gunner’s seat and sitting, immediately pulling the headset on with one hand and starting the targeting systems with the other.  After his first shot, Han’s voice comes over the comm again. “ _Where were you, kid?!_ ”

“Busy,” he grits out, shooting another of the swoop bikes.

Dev makes short work of the other bikes that risk coming into his range, and Han and Chewie get them to hyperspace soon enough.  Once he doesn’t have to worry about the swoop bikes anymore, he starts getting down from the gunner’s chair—and falls.

* * *

“What’s that?”

“This?” Han asks, holding up the bottle of pills as he brings it over and tosses it to the kid.  Dev catches it without a moment of hesitation and examines it. “They’re painkillers. They’ll stop your leg from hurting for a bit.  Take, I dunno, two?”

“How do they stop it from hurting?”

“They’re...meds?”

Dev’s gaze is still blank.  “Yeah, but... _how?_ ”

“You _have_ used them before, right?”

“Painkillers?  No.” The kid shakes his head quickly.  “I’ve used meds before though. My mas– I had to get knocked out once.”

“What do you mean, ‘had to?’” Han questions, gaze now full of suspicion.

“I had to.  For practice.”

“ _Practice…._ ”

“In case someone knocked me out while I was hun– out...doing...stuff….”  The kid swallows, glancing away and fiddling with the pill bottle lid.

“You know how to open that?”

“...no,” he admits, handing it to Han.  He opens it and gives Dev two of the pills.  The kid looks at them for a long moment before finally shrugging and dry swallowing them, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand.

“If it’s still hurting in a few hours, let me know.  Chewie and I need to get the next few jumps ready.” Han pockets the painkillers and starts toward the door, though when he hears a sound he turns back to see Dev scooting out of the dejarik booth.

“Wait, wait, let me come help—“

Han puts a hand up, freezing the kid in his tracks.  “No. If you get up, you’re gonna pull something. Just sit for a bit, it’s fine.  We’ve got it, kid.” Dev still moves to get up but Han shoots him a glare. “No.” He points at the booth.  “That’s an _order,_ kid.  Rest.”

“But I– I can help—“

“And I’m tellin’ you _no._  I appreciate it, but we don’t need your help.  You’re just going to be more trouble if you hurt yourself worse.”

The kid pulls a face, and Han has to suppress the smile that threatens to surface at the sight of it.  When he’s sure the kid will stay, he lets the smile slip out slightly. “Comm me or Chewie if you need anything.”  He leaves, heading to the cockpit.

As soon as the cockpit door closes, he glances over at Chewie as he approaches and sits in the pilot’s chair.  Han risks another glance back at the door, further reaffirming to himself that it’s closed, before glancing back at his friend.

“You saw what I did out there too, right?”  Chewie groans in agreement. Han sighs, raking a hand through his hair.  “The kid– I dunno _what_ he is, Chewie, but that’s not– that’s not normal.”  He recalls the kid thrusting his hands out, his snarl as he returned to the ship.  Hours later, and _vicious_ is still the only word that comes to mind.  “I...people don’t do that. People don’t just _do_ that, right Chewie?”  The Wookiee groans again, before suggesting that Dev is—

“No.  No way, they died.  They all died,” Han interrupts, shaking his head wildly as he recognizes the start of the equivalent of _Jedi_ in Shyriiwook.  “The Empire killed ‘em all, Chewie.  Kriff, weren’t you _there?_ ”

Chewie doesn’t get a chance to respond before there’s a crash from beyond the cockpit.  Han exchanges a glance with him before they both stand, bolting out of the cockpit.


	15. XV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Han receives a job offer and Hera runs into an unexpected threat while hunting her quarry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Choking (via the Force), Threat of Death

Dev sits on the floor next to the dejarik table, one leg trapped behind it.  When Han and Chewbacca come into view he offers an uneasy grin.

“Sorry.”

Han rolls his eyes, though he’s glad the kid isn’t hurt.  He approaches, crouching to help the kid remove his leg from behind the table’s support.  Dev’s grin widens slightly and he glances at the ground as he stands.

“Uh, thanks.”

“Yeah.  How’d you do that?” Han asks brusquely.  Dev gives a short, awkward laugh, a hand reaching back to rub at his neck.

“Well, it’s kind of a funny story—“

Chewbacca groans what Han’s pretty sure is the equivalent of “air” in Shyriiwook, and he glances up.  “The kid’s not _stu—_ “

“He’s, ah, right.”

Han whips his head back around to the kid so fast that he gets whiplash.  “You tripped on _air,_ kid?”

“...maybe?”

He sighs, shaking his head.  “Alright, alright, whatever. Look, I gotta—“

An alert sounds from the cockpit, announcing an incoming transmission.  Han groans and digs the heel of his palm into his eyes before rising.

“I’ll go check on that.  Kid, stay here. Chewie...you can come with me if you want.  Or stay with the pips– Dev. Whatever.” Chewbacca groans in preference of the second option and Han shrugs, turning and going to the cockpit.

There’s a transmission waiting and he opens it, eyes scanning the lines of Aurebesh.

 _To Han Solo of the_ Millenium Falcon, it reads.  _We have seen your career expand and your success rates grow, particularly in the recent months.  If you are interested, we have a job for you. It is high risk, but high pay. If not, we can certainly arrange for the Empire to find you.  You have one rotation to decide and arrive at these coordinates._

His blood runs cold and he swallows, pushing off of the console as he stares at the Aurebesh.

 _Well this’ll be kriffin’_ great.

* * *

Hera continues through the wide canyon, blaster out of its holster though pointed at the ground.  Her comm sits on her belt, silent.

Everything is _too_ silent, in fact.

She knows Ahsoka is in the Outer Rim, currently on the opposite side of the galaxy.  She has her lightsabers, ready to engage with anything that comes between her and the artifact they’ve been searching for for months—including an Inquisitor.  Hera’s just looking for the one they’ve already found. And lost.

She steps carefully over a small depression in the ground, likely made by one of the animals that roam in the valley with her.  She doesn’t want to risk meeting this one, however—its footprint _alone_ is the size of Chopper’s dome.  She suppresses a shudder and moves on.

Something, or someone, is watching her.

She’s been aware of the faint, occasional footsteps—always too deliberate to be just a passing animal—the past hour or so, but still can’t figure out why they haven’t attacked yet.

She realizes why only moments later.

A spinning red lightsaber blade lodges itself to the hilt in the tree ahead of her.  She stops, gaping before whirling to face her assailant and already firing her blaster.  He’s a human male, tall with dark hair pulled tightly back—and wearing an Inquisitor’s blacks.

 _This isn’t the one I was looking for,_ she thinks quickly before he snarls, gesturing with a hand, and the bolt goes flying into a nearby tree.  He grabs his lightsaber’s circular hilt and yanks, pulling it out of the trunk and turning it on her. She backs up, firing repeatedly as the tree creaks and collapses, falling where the Inquisitor was only moments ago.  Her blaster charges have no effect, however.

He blocks every single one of them.

Frustrated, Hera screams, firing three charges in quick succession before her blaster is cut in half.  She throws the remaining half at the Inquisitor, but he merely waves it away with the Force, a dark smile forming.  He makes the same hand into what could almost be considered a beckoning gesture.

And then she feels her throat tighten.

She’s slammed back into a tree, clawing at her throat as the momentum of the blow further knocks the wind from her.  The Inquisitor advances slowly, hand still in the same odd, almost-beckoning gesture.

She remembers the younger Inquisitor’s lightsaber, still clipped to her belt, at the last moment.  Hera scrabbles at it, managing to unclip and raise it, igniting it at the same time the human’s blade nearly comes crashing into her chest.  His eyes widen as the hold on her throat releases and she gasps, breathing in deeply. She pushes against his blade, wincing as he pushes hers closer to her face and she can feel the heat.

“Where is the boy?” he growls.

* * *

She’d killed him.

She had killed _his apprentice._

That’s all he can think as he pulls back and slashes again, missing her head and hitting the tree instead as she ducks.  He turns away from it, ignoring it as it topples the same moment he lunges at the Twi’lek again. She blocks him, but barely, and he mentally wonders how long she’s been training.

“Where’s my apprentice?” he snarls.

“I don’t know who you’re talking about,” the woman answers, breathing labored.  He takes a step forward, and this time _she’s_ the one attacking, taking the first lunge at him.  He’s forced back a step before he realizes what’s going on and pushes back, forcing her against a tree again and calling his apprentice’s lightsaber to his hand.  He sheathes it.

“The boy,” Kanan growls, blade at her throat.  “Human. Dark hair. Scars. Around your height.  _Where is he?_ ”

“I _don’t know!_ ”

Growling, he reaches a hand out with the Force, trying to probe her mind.

Instead, he comes up against surprisingly strong shields.

Opening his eyes, he stares into her green ones.  She’s strikingly beautiful, he realizes now.

She’s also going to die.

“Who trained you?”

“No one,” she spits, trying to push him away.  He merely presses the blade down farther until it’s nearly touching her skin.

“And where did you get his ‘saber?” he asks, raising the hand holding it and glancing at it briefly.  She eyes it warily before her gaze flits back to his.

“It doesn’t matter.”

He presses his blade against her throat again so now there’s almost no air space between it and her.

“Where. Is. He.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kanan’s a protective dad someone help him realize that Hera genuinely doesn’t know hghhhh


	16. XVI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One of her superiors confronts Sabine as Han makes a choice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Referenced Genocide

The moment Sabine steps off of the shuttle and into one of the several hangars on the Death Star, a half a squad of ‘troopers surrounds her.  She barely opens her mouth to get a word out when one of the ‘troopers speaks up.

“The moff wants to speak to you.”

They escort her to the lift at the end of the hangar, walking fast enough that she can just barely keep up.  The way they surround her makes her uneasy; it reminds her of the way she and Tristan—

_ No. _   No reason to think of traitors.

They reach the floor the squad leader punched into the lift and step out.  The stormtroopers continue to escort her down the corridor, and she catches the gazes of several lower-level officers and even a pilot.

The way they look at her makes her unease grow.

The ‘troopers stop in front of a door and the leader pulls out a code cylinder, turning it before sliding it out again.  The door slides open, and they escort her in.

She frowns, realizing that this room isn’t the bridge, like she was expecting.  She turns to question the ‘troopers, but the ones behind and to her right are already receding.  The ones in front and to her other side remain.

“This isn’t the bridge,” she states.  The squad leader ignores her, instead addressing someone she can’t see.

“The engineer as you requested, sir.”

“Thank you.  You may go.”

“And leave her…?”

“She poses little threat to me.”

“Of course, sir.”  Nodding, the squad leader turns and walks out, the other ‘trooper following, and Sabine is left with a full view of the Grand Moff.

“Are you aware as to why I called you here, Sabine Wren?”

She jolts at the use of her full name.  It’s not often she hears it anymore.

“I– I’m not, sir.”

He makes a noise of slight disapproval, returning his gaze to a datapad on his desk.  Sabine swallows, shifting her weight.

Several more minutes pass before Moff Tarkin speaks again.  “How does it feel to be standing on a weapon of such magnitude, and you  _ created _ at that, Miss Wren?”

She swallows again.  “I...I’m not sure, sir.”  Sabine laughs nervously, resisting the urge to run a hand through her hair.

“Hmm.”  Tarkin lifts his gaze to her finally, watching her with eyes that seem to see through to her own soul.  She tries not to squirm.

“Did you know, Director Krennic and I had a comm link open during the test of the weapon?  I noticed that you appeared particularly...distressed.”

She’s barely able to keep her gaze from flicking down briefly.  “I didn’t know that, sir.”

“To refer back to my original inquiry, Miss Wren, I called you here because I wanted to ensure that you were no longer unsettled by the weapon’s test.”

A lie.  Still, she tries to sound civil when she responds.

“I...I’m not any longer, sir.  I was just….Unprepared, for– for how powerful it was.”

He nods.  “It was very powerful indeed, Miss Wren.  I suppose I should congratulate you on that.  As well as on the fact that we have now successfully destroyed a rebel base with zero casualties to our own soldiers.”

Sabine blinks.  “We– the weapon, sir, it– it killed innocent Mandalorians too—“

“Miss Wren.”  His tone is genial enough, but his gaze is ice cold.  “I believe I just  _ praised you _ for your willingness to help serve your Emperor.  Or am I mistaken?”

Her gaze drops.  “You were not, sir.  Tha– thank you.” Inside, her mind is still roiling, unsettled by the events she’s still trying to forget and the words of the man in front of her.

“I would advise you to think through your reactions next time, Miss Wren.  Or you may have someone less kind wanting to make your acquaintance next.” His gaze has somehow become sharper, and she nods slowly.

“Of course, th– thank you for the advice, sir.  I’ll be sure to keep that in mind.”

Just as soon as his gaze turned it changes again, now a wide smile as he nods dismissively and turns back to his datapad.  “You may go.”

She barely manages to keep from running as she nods and turns, exiting and trying to ignore the ‘troopers that fall into step at her side.  One thought becomes a mantra in her mind.

_ They were right. _

* * *

“So what’s our next job?” Dev asks, bouncing up and down on the seat.  Han shoots him a cursory glance as he continues plotting the hyperspace coordinates.

“Didn’t think you’d be so excited, kid.  Something happening I don’t know about?”

Dev shrugs.  “I dunno, I just am.”

Han chuckles, plugging in the final coordinate before he turns to Chewie.  “Ready?”

The Wookiee groans and Han nods, throwing the lever to make the jump.  The ship hovers for a moment, the stars stretching before the  _ Falcon _ rockets forward, throwing the stars into blue lines.  Han smiles.

“Where are we going?” Dev asks, still as eager as before.

“You sure you wanna know?” Han asks, voice light.  He catches the reflection of Dev’s shrug in the windscreen and smirks, turning halfway again and slinging an arm over the back of the chair.  “Alright. You know how I told you once that sometimes smugglers have to get the things they smuggle secondhand? You’re about to see that in action, kid.”  He smiles at Dev’s widening grin.

“And I get to help?”

“Yeah, ‘course.  Everyone on this crew’s gotta pull their weight, after all.”  He rises as he speaks, ruffling the kid’s hair on his way to the cockpit exit.  He stands at the exit, leaning against the bulkhead. “I gotta check some things with our contact first though, kid, so scram.”  Dev’s smile becomes one of slight unease, but he gets up anyway, slipping out of the cockpit.

Chewie watches him go before groaning an excuse to leave and look after the cub or something, somehow able to tell—as he always is—that Han needs to do this alone.

Han returns to the console, staring blankly at it for a moment before entering the comm channel the job came from into it.  “We’re ready to accept.”


	17. XVII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sabine does some research while Han and his crew find their target and the Inquisitor sends the Rebellion a message.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Asphyxiation (via the Force), Implied/Referenced Genocide, Death Threat

Sabine’s childhood training comes back to her in pieces as she clutches the comm, staring at it wordlessly.

_Just comm him._

She swallows, mouth dry.

_The quicker you comm him, the quicker you can get out of here._

But does she really _want_ to leave?  The Empire has been her life for the past seven years.  To betray them, to comm her family...that goes against everything she was taught.  Everything she knows.

Still….

 _“Honor before all but_ one thing, _Sabine.  And what_ is _that one thing?”_

She eyes the comm warily.

_“Family,” she answers her mother obediently, small mouth curving into a smile as the woman nods approvingly._

And picks it up.

She enters in the channel with shaking fingers and turns her side on, swallowing again.

It takes several minutes before she inhales and opens her mouth to speak.

“Tr– Tristan?”

The line responds with static.

_It’s dead._

No.  No, it can’t be.  Tristan said this channel would always work– _Tristan said—_

 _For all you know he’s_ dead, _Sabine.  Face it. A lot of people are dead now because of you.  He saw this coming. So did your parents. And even the rest of your clan._

_You were just too blinded by your own arrogance to see it._

* * *

Sabine enters her code into the terminal and pulls up the search function, staring with vacant eyes at the blinking white before finally inhaling and typing in her query.

` Krownest `

` Results Found: 00 `

` Return to Home? `

Frowning, she tries something else.

` Clan Wren `

` Results Found: 1,367 `

` 01: Weapons Demonstration D-0-08 `

` 02: Imperial-sanctioned Bounty List (Official), 14 YOE `

She doesn’t bother reading the rest, only clicking on the weapons demonstration.  She’s already seen the bounty list, already knows whose names it contains.

` ERROR `

` ACCESS DENIED `

` Clearance Level IV Needed `

` Enter Override Code: _________ `

Sabine frowns, reloading the document.  The same error message displays.

 _But...I’m level_ five.

She shoots a furtive glance over her shoulder before sucking in a breath and pulling a small datachip out from her pocket.  She inserts it into the terminal, and within moments the screen is glitching before returning to normal and flashing green.

` ACCESS GRANTED `

` Weapons Demonstration D-0-08 `

` Target: Clan Wren `

` Weapon: The Duchess `

Her stomach twists as she scans the rest of the document.  It’s...it’s so….

She’s sweating as her stomach churns, further rejecting the images she sees in front of her.

She ejects her datachip and deletes all record of her existence, including the searches, before logging off of the terminal and pushing off from it.  She staggers through the corridors, trying to keep some semblance of normality as she returns to her quarters, however her efforts are futile. Sabine’s ears are ringing by the time she finally reaches her ‘fresher and vomits.

* * *

She’s not sure how long it is when she finally feels able to walk.

Sabine returns to the main part of her cabin, locking the door and grabbing a datapad before retreating to the ‘fresher again.  She locks that door too, and pulls up the file.

` tri.final.mp4 >>> playing `

It takes a moment, but the holovid starts, and she gasps at the sight of Tristan’s face again after so long.

“ _Sabine, I know you’re going to be mad at me for saying this, but someone needs to say it.  You’re going to fall, one of these days. Someone’s going to bring you down, and with the way your time at the Academy is going, I think that’s going to be yourself._ ”

There’s a noise, and someone calls her brother’s name.  He looks up before glancing back at the holocam, running a hand through his hair as he sighs.

“ _I have to go.  I know you’re probably not going to watch this, but if you ever do...if you ever do decide to come home...destroy that monstrosity you created...you’ll know where to find us._ ”

The holovid ends, and Sabine’s left staring at her datapad, nearly glaring.

 _Just like him to be so vague he’s unhelpful,_ she thinks, sighing.

She pulls out her commlink, clicking it on.  “Hey,” She begins, sighing again, “I need a shuttle.”

* * *

“Hey Han?”

“Yeah, kid?”

“What’s that?”

“What’s what— _oh._ ”

The apprentice stares out at the ship ahead of them.  It’s a cool grey, unmarked.

It makes him anxious.

“Uh...I dunno, kid.  I honestly have no clue.  Chewie?” he asks, casting a glance up at the Wookiee.

Chewbacca groans, shrugging.  Han sighs and massages his temples.

“Wait, hold up.  Chewie, what system are we in right now?”

Han’s copilot groans his answer, and the smuggler snaps his fingers.

“That’s who we’re after.  Can we fake a distress signal?”

The apprentice nods.  “Probably. My m– friend and I did it a few times.”

Han and Chewbacca both give him a long look.  “...okay,” Han says finally, shrugging in uncertainty.  “Then can you get one set up?”

“Yeah.  Stall the engines.”  The apprentice moves to the console, setting up the distress beacon and turning off most of the ship’s power.

“What do we do now?” Han asks, reentering the cockpit.

“We wait.”

* * *

“On your knees.  Don’t say a word, or your head’s coming off,” he growls.  “Stay still.”

Hera stays frozen, watching with a hard glare as the Inquisitor turns the commlink on with a flick of his hand.

“There’s a holovid feed, too,” he tells her quietly, voice hard.  “Keep that in mind.”

She nods, biting her lip as the man summons his ‘saber with the Force and ignites it.  He begins to speak.

“I’m addressing the terrorist group calling themselves the rebellion.  This is a live feed of one of your generals. I’m an Inquisitor of the Empire, and I have one demand if you wish for General Syndulla to remain alive: Bring me my apprentice.  You know who I’m talking about. I’ll be transmitting the coordinates directly following this message, and if you don’t _have_ my apprentice, I’d suggest you _get_ him, because you have _three days_ to bring him to those coordinates.”  He flicks a hand, and the cam clicks off.

“So what are you going to do with me in the meantime?” Hera risks asking, ignoring the lingering pain in her shoulder from one of the burns she received earlier.  The Inquisitor shrugs.

“We’ll wait.”

“Wait?  And do _what?_ ”  She raises an eyebrow, lekku twitching with skepticism.

“What exactly were you _expecting_ to do?”

“I’m not sure; I thou– thought that you’d be interrogating me more by now in all honesty,” she answers, coughing.  The man’s—no, creature’s, _creature’s,_ his kind are anything _but_ beings anymore—brows knit together and he sheathes his ‘saber, reaching to reattach it to the armor on his back.  She takes her chance.

Hera gets up onto one leg, kicking out with the other.  She knocks the Inquisitor off balance enough that she can get up on both feet, jumping and swinging her arms under her feet to get her cuffs in front.  She turns her head, biting at the pin tucked into the shoulder of her flight suit. Hera raises her hands, trying to pick the lock on the cuffs with the pin in her mouth when her throat closes up suddenly before she’s thrown back several feet against a tree.  The Inquisitor approaches, lips pulled back into a snarl as he raises his now-ignited lightsaber and puts the blade to her throat.

“Why don’t you try that _again?_ ”


	18. XVIII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The unknown ship docks with Han and his crew, leading to an unplanned engagement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Referenced Threat of Death

When the other ship docks with the _Falcon,_ the apprentice glances up and back at Han.

“Time to go.”

The trio leaves the cockpit, Chewbacca drawing his bowcaster.  Thankfully, the apprentice notes, he keeps it aimed at the ground.  Still, however, he’s glad that at least one of them is ready.

They’re almost to the docking port when he throws a hand out.

“Wait,” he hisses.  “Let them get on the ship first, then we can take them out and grab the thing.”

“Alright, kid, if you’re sure you know what you’re doing.”

 _“You need to be absolutely_ sure _of yourself, kid, or they’re gonna just beat you again for it.  Understand?” The apprentice gives a jerky nod, and the expression on his master’s face eases slightly as he ruffles his hair and nudges him in the shoulder as he passes.  “Good, kid. Good.”_

He blinks, trying to make himself refocus on the situation at hand.  _If you don’t focus, you’re dead,_ he reminds himself.

There’s a footstep.

“They’re on the ship,” Han mutters under his breath.  “What now, kid?”

“Wait another minute, and then we can go.”

As he hears the footsteps continue through the ship, something tingles in his mind.

He realizes his mistake moments too late.

 _Shield yourself._ Now.

He does so, but it’s too late.  They’ve sensed him. The signature is familiar, but he ignores that fact, not wanting to think about what that means for him.  He rushes forward abruptly, gesturing for Han and Chewbacca to follow. The trio races to the docking port before stopping as the apprentice raises a hand.

“Wait, someone needs to stay here, make sure they don’t take the ship.”

Han and Chewbacca share a glance.  “I need to go for sure, I’m the only one who knows what we’re supposed to be looking for.”

“I can stay, then,” the apprentice begins.  Han immediately shakes his head.

“No, Dev, you’re not staying alone.  Chewie…?”

The Wookiee groans, hefting his bowcaster.  The apprentice cracks a slight smile and nods.

“Okay.”

“Kid.”

He hurries after Han, running through the docking port and into the other ship.  Immediately, he stumbles to a stop, glancing around wildly.

“Dev?”

“Your employer.  What did they say the thing we’re looking for looks like?”

Han’s brows shoot up in surprise.  “Uh, a small cube, blue, might glow—“

“I know where to find it.  Stay here, guard the exit. I’ll be back.”

He ignores Han’s frantic, hushed shout of “ _Kid!_ ” and bolts, following the singing that both soothes and grates on his jagged mind.  It hurts and heals at the same time as he skids around a corner before taking off again, taking another corner hard before he stumbles to a stop in front of a door.  He tries it.

Locked.

Frowning in concentration, he closes his eyes and stretches out a hand, feeling for the lock in his mind.  He pushes the tumblers up carefully until the door clicks and he opens his eyes, rushing to push open the door before halting abruptly.

The holocron sits on a small table in the middle of the room, untouched, unassuming.

Unassuming, that is, were it not for the singing that now bombards his mind and makes him want to scream.

He rushes forward, pushing through the crossing streams of _child of the Light open me open me open me_ and _child of the Dark you are not welcome here not welcome here not welcome here_ to grab the cube and bolt again.

He slams into Han at the docking port, staggering back and nearly losing the holocron.

“This way,” Han says, pulling him out of view of the airlock as footsteps suddenly echo on the duracrete.

The apprentice stands behind a bulkhead, frozen, as the owner of the ship returns and stops just outside the docking port.  It feels like an eternity has passed when the footsteps finally move away from them and the apprentice and Han move forward again.

They make it halfway through the short airlock when he hears footsteps again.  Eyes wide, he turns to Han, and they bolt at the same time. Han slams a hand against the controls for the airlock, shutting it just in time.  The smuggler turns to him, nodding to the cube.

“Is that the thing, kid?”

“Yeah.  We gotta go!”  They need to detach the ships soon, before the person they stole the holocron from finds a way in.

“I know I know, hold on, lemme—“

Han doesn’t get to finish his sentence.

A lightsaber cuts through the metal just ahead of him and both his and the teen’s eyes widen as they lock gazes.

“ _Chewie!_ ” they yell at the same time.

“Take the thing and _hide it,_ kid!  She can’t get it if you—“

“She can also _hear us!_ ” he points out, cutting Han off.  His grip on the small cube shifts as he pushes hair out of his face.  “Look, I’ll just go hide it, and then—“

The lightsaber completes its circle and the thick metal disc falls inward, the both of them jumping back just in time to avoid it landing on their feet.

“Change of plan!” Han calls, grabbing the cube and bolting around the corner.  Swallowing, he throws a hand out, knocking the woman back several meters with the Force before he follows the older smuggler.

The apprentice doesn’t get a good look at the woman, only catching blue and white montrals.  Something in him screams for him to fight her, to kill her.

Something else in him screams for him to run.

He runs.

They race to the cockpit, and Han starts disengaging the airlock before letting out an abrupt curse.

“What?!  What is it?!”

“She’s inside, we’re stuck with her!”

“Where’s Chewie?!”

“I dunno, kid!” Han shouts back.  The apprentice groans. “We need to get her back on her ship!”

“Why can’t we just push her out the airlock?”

Han shoots him a long look before reluctantly nodding.  “Sure, fine, whatever. Just _get rid of her_ so we can _go!_ ”

The apprentice nods and dashes off, already reaching for the Force.


	19. XIX

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The apprentice fights Tano while the Inquisitor makes a decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Torture of a Child, Mental Manipulation, Theoretical Threat of Death to Child, Theoretical Execution, Referenced Suicidal Thoughts

“ _Thirteenth Brother, why isn’t the girl dead yet?_ ”

Kanan swallows anxiously.  “I– I’ve been working on it—“

The Seventh Sister raises an eyebrow, lip curling in distaste.  “ _Based on your recent broadcast, I would say that you_ haven’t, _actually.  We’re not stupid, Brother._ ”  Her mouth twists into a slight smile as she concedes.  “ _Well, alright.  Not_ all _of us._ ”

“So what do you want me to do?” he finally grits out.  She shrugs, spreading her hands and smirking.

“ _Drop Syndulla at the nearest garrison with instructions to get her to ISB Headquarters.  They’ll deal with her there,_ ” she says with a dismissive gesture.  “ _We can send a couple of envoys and unnecessary Inquisitors to the coordinates you broadcasted to recover your apprentice.  Then I expect_ you _to report straight back here._ ”  The hair on the back of his neck stands up.

“Why wouldn’t I go after Wren?  You just said—“

“ _Your orders are to return to Mustafar.  Or did you mishear me?_ ”

He swallows, throat tight.  “I heard you.”

“ _Good.  Oh, and one more thing,_ ” she adds, “ _I look forward to seeing how your apprentice’s sanity has fared without you during his time away._ ”

Kanan’s jaw tightens at that, and it’s impossible to miss her smirk widening.

“Anything _else?_ ”

“ _That will be all, Brother._ ”  He nods once before turning the holoprojector off with a flick of his hand.  He inhales deeply, breath shaking as he shoots a glance off to the side. Syndulla leans against a tree, unconscious with her hands cuffed behind her back.

_Let her go._

He shakes his head at the prompting, wishing the Force would just go _away_ sometimes.  No. If he lets her go, his apprentice will be killed.  No hesitation. They’ll do it without a second thought.

But they don’t even _have_ his apprentice right now, he remembers.  They can’t do a thing to him. And for Seven to be the one giving him orders, rather than his own master….

He walks toward Syndulla without pause, reinforcing the _sleep_ command he gave her earlier through the Force as he takes the commlink he took from her before and places it a few meters from her feet.  She won’t trust this, he knows, but it’s better than just uncuffing her. She’s more likely to run on her own if he leaves her like this.

He nearly contemplates leaving his apprentice’s ‘saber with her, give the Inquisitorius one less weapon and her one more.  But no. The boy will need it more than either of them.

He releases the _sleep_ command and leaves her like that, allowing plenty of time for him to be out of range by the time she fully recovers.  And just like that, Kanan heads back to his TIE, knowing very well that he could be going straight to his own execution.

* * *

Hera wakes slowly, blinking.  Her head hurts.

The clearing is oddly quiet.

She glances around, barely daring to breathe.  Is the Inquisitor...gone?

Her eyes land on the commlink a few meters away and she narrows her gaze.  A trap. Of course it’s too good to be true.

Though this might be the only chance she has at escaping.

She decides to give it a few minutes.  Hera can simply work on her cuffs in the meantime, and _then_ leave.  She waits silently, breathing in and out through her nose.

Finally it feels like it’s been long enough.  She gets up, wincing and dropping the cuffs. She rubs her wrists and bites her lip, glancing around.

Silence.

Only the normal sounds of the jungle surrounding.  Hera allows herself a small smile and sighs, casting another long glance at the comm before she starts walking.

* * *

The apprentice skids around a corner and slows to a stop, swallowing hard when he sees Tano.

_Kill her._

_Kill her kill her kill herkillherkillherkillher—_

“Ezra,” she begins slowly.  He jumps, stiffening, and growls.

“Ezra, I don’t want to hurt you,” she continues, voice low.  She sheathes her shoto and reclips it to her belt before extending her now-free hand.  “I just want to talk.”

“No,” he says stubbornly.

“Ezra—“

“That’s not my _name!_ ” he yells, throwing a hand out and _pushing_ her with the Force.  She places a hand on the floor to slow her momentum and brace herself.

He takes off running.

“Ezra!” she shouts, following.  He whips around corners, only barely staying ahead of her.  The apprentice fumbles with the blaster holstered on his hip, finally opening it and cocking it.

He makes it to the airlock.

He turns around as she arrives and aims the blaster at her, expression hardened even as his hands shake.

“You’re going to step into the airlock,” he says, struggling to keep his voice calm.  “And you’re not going to try anything.”

Tano’s face softens.  “Ezra, I can help you.  You can come back with me, I can help you get away from—“

“Han’s not doing anything wrong!” he shouts, chest heaving with hard breaths.  “When your– when your pilot captured me, she– she took my ‘sa– ‘saber and—“

“Hera was trying to _help you,_ Ezra.  She—“

“I _said_ don’t call me that!”  He turns and bolts through the airlock, daring her to follow him.

She does.

“Ezra, I’m sorry about—“

“ _Sorry_ isn’t going to undo what _you_ did!”  He turns as soon as she re-enters her own ship, shifting until he can get between her and the docking port.  She follows, watching him with narrowed eyes.

“I—“

“When _you_ fail so badly they break your mind and make you wish they’d just gone ahead and killed you instead, _then_ come try and apologize,” he snarls, backing up toward the _Falcon_ again.

“Your parents are back on base!”  He freezes. “If you come with me, we—“

“They’ll want nothing to do with me anymore,” he spits.  He turns and bolts again, slamming a fist on the controls for the airlock.  It closes, and the port begins to retract. Tano’s already safely on her own ship, watching him with pity.

He turns and leans against the wall, slumping against it and sliding to the floor as he feels Han swerve away from the other ship and make the jump to lightspeed.  He buries his face in his knees, sobbing silently and trying to ignore the distant memories of Seven raking through his mind, molding his mind to be what she wanted.

 _He screams, fighting back against their touches on his mind, trying to retain some sense of self._ Stop fighting, child, and it will all be over much sooner, _he feels her croon in his mind.  It only makes him fight harder._

What all of them wanted.

At some point, Chewbacca comes, groaning softly.  The apprentice doesn’t respond, and Chewbacca leaves.  He returns later with Han in tow.

“C’mere, kid,” he murmurs, sitting on the ground and pulling the teen into his lap.  He allows the smuggler to hold him but only sobs harder, body shaking as he curls into Han’s chest.  “C’mere.”

He’s not sure when, but at some point, Ezra finally manages to fall asleep.

* * *

When Kanan arrives on Mustafar, he knows something’s wrong.

He steps out of his TIE, hopping to the ground easily and straightening from his crouch.

He was expecting danger, but not the squad of ‘troopers and two Inquisitors flanking Seven.

“You’re here awfully quick for someone who had to drop a prisoner off for ISB,” she says with saccharine sweetness.

“I’m here, aren’t I?” he snaps.

“Hmm.  Either way, come with us willingly, or we’ll figure out something else for you.”  Two ‘troopers step forward with a pair of cuffs.

Kanan swallows and turns, loosely clasping his hands behind his back as they move forward to cuff him.


	20. XX

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Inquisitor is rewarded for his failure to bring his apprentice home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Torture, Mental Invasion (via the Force), Mental Manipulation (via the Force), Death of a Parental Figure, Murder, Being Forced to Watch Someone Else Be Tortured, Torture of a Child, Referenced Drug Use (Non-consensual), Implied/Referenced Threat of Torture

He doesn’t resist as they drag him into Headquarters.

He doesn’t resist as they shove him forward hard enough that he nearly falls.

He doesn’t resist as they whisper in the halls around him.

It’s too similar to his first day here, when he saw the boy “training.”  All around him, apprentices sheathe their training ‘sabers as he passes, shooting confused glances his way.

“Master, that’s the Jedi, right?” one asks a little too loudly.  A yelp as she’s cuffed on the back of the head.

“Yes.  Now get back to your exercises.”

“Yes, Master.”

However, he _does_ resist when they enter a cell and he catches sight of the table ahead.  He balks, digging his heels into the floor. Seventh Sister shoves him with the Force and he stumbles inward.

“Get over there,” she snaps.

“No,” he snarls.

A presence enters his mind and Kanan screams, closing his eyes and halfway crumpling to the ground.

And just as fast, the presence recedes, leaving Kanan whimpering and blinking as he looks up at his master.

The Grand Inquisitor stands above him, a tall, imposing figure.  The man looks at him expressionlessly before finally raising a brow ridge.

“Where is the boy?”

* * *

Several hours later, Kanan’s throat is raw from screaming.  He can hardly talk, and the weight pressing on his mind doesn’t help much, either.

He can’t make out much of what the others are saying.  His master especially; every time he even _hears_ the low baritone of the Pau’an’s voice, he wants to curl up and sob all over again.

A hand touches his face and he screams, back arching against the upright table he’s strapped to.  Cuffs dig into his wrists enough that a small part of him is worried the skin will break.

“That drug does wonders, my lord,” he hears Seven say, laughing.  Her voice sounds like it comes from underwater and he shudders as her hand touches him again, lifting his chin.  He can barely focus enough on her face to glare.

“I had yet to use it on someone as strong-willed as him, until today,” his master admits.  Kanan flinches back at his voice, biting back a soft cry. “But try the memory walk, if you think that will have results.”

“With _pleasure._ ”  The sudden sweetness in her voice unsettles him, only pushing him further into oblivion as his mind explodes with pain.  He cries out again, shoving against his restraints.

Seventh Sister’s voice in his ear is quiet, cool.  Sickening. Her words are even worse.

“Do you remember your master, Brother?  Your _first_ one?”

He doesn’t answer, breathing only speeding up.

“I’ll take that as a _yes,_ then,” she chuckles.  “Well, I believe you do.  And you loved her, yes? Well.  I have quite the surprise for you, if that is indeed still the case.”

He feels her touch on his mind, but it’s too late to fight back.  He can only squirm in the restraints, ignoring the way they grate against his skin as he tries to escape.  His efforts are futile.

His head pounds hard enough that he _screams._

And then, darkness.

* * *

The halls of the Temple stand before him, open and welcoming.  Kanan blinks before a growing smile creeps onto his face. He walks forward, Padawan braid swinging by his ear.

_You shouldn’t be here._

He ignores the voice, continuing toward the hangar.  He sees Master Billaba and breaks into a wide grin, running toward her eagerly.  She turns away from Commander Grey and smiles down at him.

“Hello, Kanan.”

“Hi Master!”

“Are you ready to leave?”

_You shouldn’t be here._

“Of course!”

She gestures toward the ship behind Grey.  “Then why wait?”

He’s not in the Temple hangar anymore; now he’s looking up in surprise as the clones remove the safeties on their blasters, as the Force rushes through him and shows him the deaths of everyone he’s ever known—

“ _Run!_ ”

He doesn’t run, only stares in shock as his master ignites her lightsaber.  “Grey…? Styles…?” he asks in a hoarse whisper.

“Good soldiers follow orders.”

“Execute Order 66.”

He can’t tear his gaze away.

“Execute the Jedi!”

His master cuts Remo down.

“ _Now!_ ”

Mixx loses his head.  Kanan can’t look away.

“ ** _Padawan!_ **   Run or fight, but do not just _stand there!_ ”  Depa’s ‘saber is a whir of green light, cutting down his friends, his _brothers._

“What?” he asks, still shocked.  “Oh...yes, Master.”

“Widen the perimeter.  Surround them.”

“What about the crossfire?”

“What scares you more?  Crossfire or the Jedi?”

“There are too many.  And they’ll soon cut off any escape.”  He finds his gaze drawn to Big Mouth’s corpse.  _I killed him…._

“Kanan, we cannot win this battle...you _must run._ ”  He raises his ‘saber on instinct, deflecting a blaster bolt.

“Go!  I’ll be right behind you!”  She’s lying. He knows. He runs.

“Concentrate fire on the Padawan!”

“Cut the kid off.  Cut the kid down.”

He can sense a blaster raising, pointing at him.  “Done and done.”

“ _Styles,_ **_no!_** ”

Lightsaber ignited, he turns, sees his master throw a hand out and knock Styles’s aim off with the Force long enough that he misses Kanan.  He sees his master get shot.

And shot.

And shot.

Again.

And again.

And again.

He’s back in the Temple.

He turns at a noise.

The Temple, filled with Padawans and Knights alike only moments ago, is now empty.  His heart pounds furiously and he turns, spinning in a circle as he tries to find _someone,_ _anyone._

“Kanan!”

He turns again.

He’s standing in the middle of a bar, patrons laughing around him—and he’s laughing with them, too, at some joke Okadiah made.

The door slams open and Kanan nearly drops the glass he’s polishing, looking up.  
“Cooperate, and we can all be done quick,” a stormtrooper announces.  Kanan rolls his eyes, but keeps rubbing the rag over the smooth glass.

“Kanan…” a low voice says.  Okadiah grips his arm and he wrenches it out of the man’s grasp, still uncomfortable with physical contact no matter how long he’s been working at the Asteroid Belt.  He looks up with a half-glare, annoyed that Okadiah’s suddenly decided that Kanan’s okay with that. But then he hears more boots still trooping into the bar, and he looks up, nearly dropping the glass.

Two stormtroopers flank the doors, but two other, black-armored ‘troopers are entering.  And behind them….

Kanan bolts.

He makes it halfway to the back room before he’s frozen in place.  He wrenches his head back, eyes widening as he starts to struggle frantically.  He manages to break his hand out of the invisible grip and grab his blaster, turning it and nearly firing before his finger is stopped, halfway down on the trigger.

“Everybody out!” one of the stormtroopers calls.  The bar empties in moments, but Okadiah remains until Kanan jerks his head.

“Go,” he hisses.

“Kanan?”

“I said _go!_ ”

Okadiah holds his gaze for a moment longer before turning.  Kanan turns back around, lowering his head and trying to keep himself from shaking as he hears booted footsteps approach, a sudden cool smothering him.

“Hold on,” another ‘trooper orders.  Okadiah’s footsteps stop. “We’re going to need to ask you some questions.”

Okadiah gives a short laugh.  “I don’t understand, I just own this place.  _That_ laserbrain’s just my employee.  I barely know him.”

“I would have to disagree,” a smooth, cold voice interrupts.  A shudder runs down Kanan’s spine as the cool presses against him now, oppressive and hateful and _terrifying._   He struggles against the hold on him again, but there’s only a soft chuckle.  “Kanan _Jarrus,_ is it?”

“I don’t know who the kriff you are and I don’t kriffing care, to be honest,” Kanan growls as the footsteps approach again.  A hand lands on his neck, the lightest of touches still enough to make him try and wrench against the hold.

“Ah, such a foul mouth for a Jedi,” the cold voice murmurs.  He stills, heart stopping. “What _else_ do you have to say?”

“Kriff off.”

“Now, that’s no way to talk to an Imperial officer, is it?”  He shudders again, eyes fluttering closed.

“Please, just...leave him out of this.  I’m the one you want. Not him, not Okadiah.”

“I believe he would make a _great_ motivating factor for your service to the Empire.”  The voice is too measured, too even, too quiet. Kanan swallows, squeezing his eyes shut more.

_Force, please let them kill me quickly._

The Temple surrounds him again when he opens his eyes, and he hears screaming.  He runs, opening every door. Nothing, only blank voids behind them. The screaming continues.

He opens a door and he’s in one of the shadowy interrogation chambers of the Inquisitorius.  His apprentice is before him, strapped to a table and _screaming._   The sound grates on his ears and heart; he knows he’s powerless to stop it.

Seven makes a snide comment about his apprentice that elicits a raised brow from the Grand Inquisitor.  Kanan clenches his teeth, curling and uncurling his fists. _Get_ away _from him._

His master casts a glance at him, hand still outstretched as Kanan’s own apprentice thrashes senselessly against his restraints.  “Caring for your apprentice is useless.”

“I only care for him as a weapon,” Kanan grits out, “my lord.”

“See that you do, and no more than that.”  He returns his attention to the boy, and another violent flash of memory rushes into Kanan’s mind through their bond.  Another invasion of his mind, like this one, only he was aware of his surroundings and of himself, aware of the bond being forged with the Grand Inquisitor against his will.  Their bond is fractured, splintered, made of cobwebs and shadows and rotting grasses. The bond Kanan shares with the kid, however, is more fractured in the sense that glasses are, splintered in the same sense an old house is, not dangerous but familiar; made of stale snow and embers landing on wet leaves, of things dying before they can be truly born.

The kid’s screaming doubles in volume, his head slamming back against the durasteel of the table as he whimpers before breaking into a sharp cry of pain again.  Kanan can’t help but flinch, the sound piercing him in a way he knows it shouldn’t be.

“Master,” he begins carefully, quietly, “isn’t this enough?  My apprentice has surely learned his lesson by now.”

“Are you questioning my methods, apprentice?”  His master’s voice is dangerously quiet and Kanan immediately drops his head, shaking it.

“No– no, my lord.  Of course not. I wasn’t thinking.”

“Good.  As you said earlier, the boy is no more than a weapon.”  The kid screams again, almost louder than before, and Kanan’s eye twitches.  “And all weapons must be sharpened periodically.”

Another flash of memory slips across the bond, a pair of white blades crossing at the boy’s throat as he glares defiantly up at a Togruta.

“I don’t want to kill you,” the woman starts.  The kid growls and moves to attack her, but within moments he’s shoved against the floor, one of the blades nearly searing his neck.  The thoughts running through his head are what’s more terrifying, however— _they’re going to kill me you better kill me do it kill me here now kill me before they do I can’t go back as a failure please I can’t go back—_

He’s yanked out of the boy’s memories as the cries taper off.  Kanan’s gaze narrows as he stares at his apprentice, trembling with exhaustion and sagging forward against his restraints.  Seven presses something on her gauntlet after a nod from the Grand Inquisitor, and the restraints release, dropping the boy unceremoniously onto the ground.  Kanan nearly surges forward but tenses, cautiously glancing at his master. The man nods, and he rushes to the boy, dropping to his knees and gathering his apprentice into his arms.  The boy blinks blearily, gaze unfocused as he stares up at Kanan.

“Hey, it’s okay, you’re all right,” he whispers.  The boy blinks again, gaze sliding over to the Grand Inquisitor and Seven.  He whimpers, flinching back into Kanan’s chest. “You’re okay.” He reaches a hand out to brush the boy’s hair back—

He’s on a battlefield, gaping at Grey and Styles as they aim at him and Depa—“ _Run!_ ”—

A bar that barely anyone beyond the local miners frequent as he fights against the invisible hold on him—

Resisting the urge to get up and punch Seven as she remarks on his apprentice’s training—

And the Temple between it all, almost taunting him with its peaceful, empty halls.


	21. XXI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Han, Ezra, and Chewbacca arrive at the meeting place their contact sent, however it doesn’t go as planned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Forced Abandonment of Child, Asphyxiation (via the Force), Threat of Death, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse

Ezra throws the lever with a determined gaze, eyes locked on the stars as they stretch out to form the white streaks of hyperspace.  Done, he leans back in the seat, letting out a _whoosh_ of air.

“So you really _do_ know how to fly a freighter, kid.  Good job.” Han moves to squeeze his shoulder but falters, likely remembering Ezra’s reaction the last time he did so.  Instead, he awkwardly steps away, running a hand through his hair before sitting with a quiet sigh.

“Yeah.”

The pair falls silent, and once more Ezra can’t help but wonder who their contact is.  He decides to risk asking.

“Hey, Han?”

“Yeah kid?”

“Can you tell me who we’re bringing the hol– artifact too?”

The man is silent for a long moment, and a quick glance up reveals that he’s staring absently into the striped void ahead of them.  It’s a long moment before he replies.

“Well...no, I can’t, not exactly, kid.  I’m sorry.”

“Why not?”  The question slips out before he can stop himself, and Ezra presses his lips into a thin line, watching for Han’s reaction worriedly.

“I...they threatened to kill you and Chewie if I told.  Or if I didn’t do it.”

“Oh.”  Ezra goes quiet again, following Han’s gaze out into the vortex.  It always mesmerizes him, but he’s seeing it in a new light now. His master had always treated it as more of a clinical, scientific thing.  And so Ezra had done the same.

Han, however, looks at it with a different eye.  He sees it as a thing of wonder, as one of the few beauties of life that remain after all these years.

Ezra wishes he could see more things that way.

Han clears his throat without warning, clapping his hands together and glancing down at Ezra as the boy raises his gaze to meet his.

“You down for a game of dejarik, kid?”

* * *

The ship drops out of hyperspace above the Ring of Kafrene.  Han sets the _Falcon_ into orbit as soon as he can, comming the air control for permission to land.  He does so in the landing bay the contact said, gliding her in carefully and parking her.

Upon landing, he heads to the ramp and opens it just as Chewbacca and Dev arrive.

“You got the cube, kid?”

Dev nods, lifting the bag with one hand.  Han cracks a smile.

“Good.  Let’s go.”

They’re halfway down the ramp when Chewbacca groans.  Han nods, turning to glance at the Wookiee over his shoulder.

“Yeah, Chewie.  Go ahead, you can catch up.”  The Wookiee groans again and retreats back inside the ship.  Dev watches him go.

Han leads the rest of the way down the ramp, walking slowly out into the middle of the hangar.  Han glances around, something in his stomach squirming. The overall situation combined with the surprising vacancy of the hangar unsettles him, though he can’t place why.

“Han?  Where are they?”

He shrugs, still concerned though feigning nonchalance.  “They’ll come. Don’t worry, kid. They’ll come.”

Dev gives a short nod and settles in to wait, shifting his stance until he appears to be more at ease.

“Hey, Han?” the kid asks after a while.  He turns to glance down at him, mouth already opening to tell him that _no,_ he has _no clue_ when their contact is supposed to arrive, when the kid’s words startle him.

“Who’s Beckett?”

He swallows, throat tight.

_“You told Chewie people are predictable,” he says, voice hoarse as his heart pounds.  “You’re no exception.”_

Sighing, Han starts.  “He was...he was a—“

The door across the hangar opens.

Beside him, he feels Dev stiffen, and can’t help but tense himself.  “It’s okay, kid,” he murmurs. “They’re not here for us. Just for what we brought.”

The stormtroopers halt a few meters from them, and Han eyes them with a wary gaze.  “Where’s my contact?” he calls.

The wall of plastoid-armored soldiers remain silent, still, until they part without any warning.

Beside him, Dev’s tension is suddenly and irrevocably palpable.

“Ah, Solo.  Thank you so _much_ for your little...excursion.  And...what’s this?”

Dev bolts.

“Dev!” he yells, whirling.

The boy is suddenly frozen in midair, whimpering until he’s jerked back to the armored woman in front of Han.  He turns back to her, eyes wide as she closes a hand around the boy’s throat. She raises a single finger to her helmet, retracting the faceplates to reveal a cruel smile.

“You even brought us a _bonus._ ”

“No, I—“

He can’t speak.

Han tries to, tries so hard it _hurts,_ but nothing comes out.  His eyes widen as he looks at Dev, the boy’s face quickly growing ashen as the woman gestures to the ‘troopers without loosening her grip on his windpipe.  “Cuff the traitor, and give Solo the reward for the holocron along with the bounty. He’s earned it, I think.” She smiles, a hard, unfriendly gesture.

And drops Dev.

The teen collapses to his knees, gasping for breath until two stormtroopers drag him to his feet and manhandle him into cuffs.  They force him to turn so his back is to Han. He cranes his neck over his shoulder, eyes pleading and desperate. “Han! _Han!_ ”

He wants to scream, to tell the boy, he’s coming, he wouldn’t leave him, he’s not betraying him, but the words won’t come out.  His throat remains unnaturally tight even as the kid’s pulled away from the _Falcon_ and Han and out of the hangar.

Too late, he realizes he can’t even pull his blaster, either.

The woman remains, smiling at Han as Dev’s screams disappear into the distance.

“I have to admit, we were not expecting our...weapon to return so soon, but thank you for assisting with that.”  The Mirialan smiles, and his stomach sinks.

He glares at her with hatred and she chuckles, nodding to the _Falcon_ behind him.

“Now, be a good boy and return to your ship.  Take your Wookiee and leave, before we decide to simply destroy the lot of you.  If I find out you returned, or that you _tried_ to return….”  She makes a _tsk_ ing noise and his glare darkens.  “Don’t worry. We’ll take _very_ good care of the traitor.”

With that, she turns away, leaving with all but two of the ‘troopers.  They remain, silent and staring, until Han finally turns away and retreats to his ship.  He slams a suddenly-tired fist against the ramp controls and stumbles into the cockpit, starting the ship up by himself.

He’s making the jump to lightspeed when Chewbacca finally enters, groaning.  Han swivels his chair around, glaring.

“ _No,_ the kriffing kid _isn’t_ kriffing here, in case you couldn’t _tell!_ ” he yells.  Chewbacca’s silent for a long moment before Han realizes what he’s done and allows his façade to crumble.

“They took him, Chewie,” he whispers, voice rough.  “They kriffing took him. And it’s all my fault.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> can we get an f in the chat for Han and Ezra


	22. XXII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ezra learns what happens to deserters in the Inquisitorius while Kanan receives a new order.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Torture of a Child, Electrocution of a Child, Forced Sensory Overload, Being Forced to Watch the Torture of Someone Else, Torture, Implied Drug Use by a Minor (Non-Consensual), Referenced Betrayal by a Parental Figure

“I’ll ask you  _ one more time: _ why isn’t the boy’s tracker showing up?”

“M– maybe because you’ve got it so kriffing far up yo—”

The Seventh Sister backhands him sharply and he curses, head snapping to the side.  Blinking back the pain, Kanan turns to her once more, head still lowered.

“Did you disable it?”

He shrugs.  “Maybe. Maybe not.  I don’t remember.”

She’s raising a hand for another strike as he flinches when the door opens.  She lowers her hand and Kanan glances over, swallowing hard when he recognizes who it is.

“You think  _ slapping him _ will help with his insolence?” the Grand Inquisitor asks in a deadpan, remaining in the doorway and raising a brow ridge.  Kanan can’t help but flinch back, swallowing hard. His master sends a brief, cold smile his way before returning his attention to the Seventh Sister.

“I can guarantee you that it will  _ not. _   It’s in his nature not to back down.  The Jedi only brought that out more in his training.  It will be difficult to break again, now that it’s surfaced at long last.”

He wants to say something, to defend himself, but he knows there’s no way he would be allowed to without being punished worse.  The Grand Inquisitor is already watching him closely, gaze focused as he waits for Kanan to make a mistake.

He won’t.

“Have you told him of the child?”

Kanan’s breath catches as the Mirialan shakes her head.  “No. Not yet. I wanted to see if he would break without that.”

“Clearly, you’ve failed.”  His master approaches and Kanan moves back against the wall, gaze dropping.  The Pau’an crouches to his eye level, smirking cruelly. “She didn’t tell you that we found your boy?”

* * *

Ezra hugs his knees to his chest, burying his face further in them and trying to drown out the blaring klaxons and flashing lights from above.  He remembers this, from the early days, back when he was still a Bridger and still thought that not everyone was horrible.

He thought wrong.

He misses Han, misses him and Chewie and the  _ Falcon _ so much that—

_ No. _   He  _ doesn’t _ miss them; he  _ can’t _ miss them.  Missing them would mean forgiving them.  And he  _ can’t _ forgive them.

Han turned him in.  Han betrayed him. Han sold him out.

For money.

Then again, if Ezra were in the same situation, he likely would have done the same.

Out of nowhere, the noise and lights stop, and Ezra is abruptly plunged into darkness.

He whimpers and curls further into himself, shaking with barely restrained sobs.

Somehow, the darkness is an even  _ worse _ form of torture.

* * *

Kanan watches the recording in silence, heart thumping unevenly in his chest as he feels the Seventh Sister’s nails curling into his shoulder.  Above, his master watches him just as carefully, noting every time he flinches or shifts involuntarily, every time his eye twitches or his breath hitches.

Kanan’s sick of it.

In the holovid before him, his apprentice thrashes senselessly against restraints holding him tightly against a torture table as shocks run through his body.  Kanan’s fingers curl, but when he feels the Grand Inquisitor shift beside him, he forces them to relax. He tries not to think of murdering him, Seven, or any of the other Inquisitors; his master would easily sense his intentions and just punish him— _ or his apprentice— _ more severely.

A flash of movement on the ‘vid catches his attention.  He narrows his eyes slightly, blinking.  _ There. _

Hair.

It can only be his apprentice’s; there’s just a droid operating the electroshock device.  But the boy’s hair has never been this long….

Maybe it’s someone else.

He prays to the Force, for the first time in a while, that it’s someone else’s.

But then the boy throws his head back, crying out, and Kanan catches the small, wide scar on his collarbone, an old lightsaber burn that never healed right.  And he  _ knows. _

He knows that this  _ is _ his apprentice, and that there’s nothing he can do but watch as the boy  _ screams. _

He finds his voice when his apprentice finds a respite, swallowing hard as the boy’s chest heaves in between breaths and he eyes the IT-O droid fearfully.  “Why isn’t his hair short?”

He can feel Seven shrug from above him, nails digging further into his shoulders.  “He must have left it to grow out; a lack of discipline inherited from his master would do that.  Personally, I think it looks better on him. It would certainly make it easier to—“

Kanan inhales deeply, trying to hide the shakiness of his voice as he interrupts her.  “What do I need to do?”

“For what?” she asks.

“To– to stop you from hurting him more.”  The droid’s approaching the boy again, and he strains against the restraints, whimpering and trying to lean away.  “What do I need to do?” he repeats.

There’s a terrifying moment of silence in which neither of them respond, even as the droid draws closer and closer to his apprentice.  Kanan has to bite his tongue to keep from speaking out again.

“That depends on what you are  _ willing _ to do,” his master says finally.

“Anything, my lord, anything,” he mutters desperately, unable to look away as the droid extends a hypospray.  “Please. I’m be– I’m  _ begging _ you, sir.”

The droid only draws closer as his master remains quiet.  Finally, the Pau’an speaks again, voice faintly amused. “I don’t  _ see _ you begging.  Get down on your knees, boy, and do it  _ properly. _ ”

Swallowing thickly, Kanan obeys, standing from the chair and turning to face his master before kneeling and dropping his gaze.  “Please, sir.”

“I thought we trained you better than that.”

“Please, Master.”

From behind, he hears the boy’s strangled yelp and cringes.

“I’ll do anything,” he whispers.

There’s a long moment of silence.

“Turn it off.”

The Seventh Sister doesn’t bother hiding her sigh of irritation before obliging, and Kanan hears her speak the command key to the droid that turns it off within moments.

“What do I need to do, Master?” Kanan repeats.

“Kill your apprentice.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi this entire chapter hurt to write which is why it’s a week late :)


	23. XXIII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ezra pays for his escape.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Child Abuse, Asphyxiation, Attempted Execution/Murder of a Child

It’s been quiet for too long.

The droid left, abruptly and seemingly without cause, a long time ago.  He’s not sure how long.

Ezra’s never sure.

He’s only grateful for the reprieve its absence grants him.  Now, he’s allowed to sag against his restraints until they’re carving into his skin, making his weakness even further agony.  He finds himself unable to withhold a small whimper, shifting weakly in his restraints in an attempt to lessen the pressure.

It only makes it worse.

Ezra closes his eyes, a small tear escaping as he tries to will himself away from the pain.  That doesn’t work, either, so he simply gives in and drops his head.

He’s not sure how long he remains like that, still in his restraints beyond the uneven rise and fall of his chest.  But eventually, the door slides open, and he looks up with a whimper before curling back against the flat sheet of durasteel.

The Seventh Sister _tsk_ s as she approaches him, shaking her head and stopping only a few inches from him.  “I remember the last time I saw you like this,” she says smoothly, not hiding the smile playing at the edge of her lips.  “You were on your knees in front of your grandmaster, your sorry excuse for a master, and me, practically _begging_ for—“

“Get on with it,” he growls, the words slipping out before he can stop them.  The backhand he receives for the display of defiance is not unexpected.

She undoes the restraints with a flick of her hand and Ezra falls forward, hitting the floor on hands and knees.  He holds back a cry, even as jolts of pain shoot up his limbs from the impact. Seven drags him to his feet before he has a chance to crawl away, grip on his elbow bruising as she pulls him out of the cell.  He stumbles after her, trying to keep up so he won’t be dragged behind, though he knows he won’t be able to hold out like that for long.

Thankfully, he doesn’t have to.  Though maybe he _shouldn’t_ be thankful after all.

They enter a large room with a long window across one wall, offering a view of the lava fields of Mustafar.  His master is standing with a group of Inquisitors along the opposite wall, talking in quiet tones and ignoring Ezra’s entrance.  The Grand Inquisitor is with them, too, he realizes.

“I brought the boy,” the Seventh Sister announces, bringing Ezra to the middle of the room before throwing him to the ground.  He bites back a cry, though he’s unable to hide a wince as he starts to sit up.

 _Now_ they’ve attracted the attention of the others.  The group turns, his master raising an eyebrow just enough that Ezra’s the only one who would notice.  Other than that, however, none of them react.

Except the Grand Inquisitor.

“Thirteenth Brother,” he calls.  Ezra’s master steps forward. “Is it ready?”

“Yes, my lord.”

The Pau’an nods.  “Good. Sister, go get it.”  Seven nods, shooting Ezra a cruel smirk before leaving.  In her absence, the Pau’an draws closer and Ezra flinches back, swallowing hard.  “Do you know why you are here?”

“I le– left.”

“That’s ‘left, my _lord,_ ’” he corrects.  Ezra only blinks, remembering Han’s words.

 _“You gotta stand up to people, kid.  You’ve got it in you, I can tell, you’ve just gotta_ use _it.”_

Then again, Han is also the person who betrayed him.

“I would watch myself if I were you, boy.”

“Okay,” he says, shrugging.

The blow catches him off guard, though in retrospect, he should have been able to see it coming.  He takes it silently, biting his lip.

“This is your _last chance:_ pledge your loyalty, apologize, _beg_ for mercy.  Or you can simply accept your death.  It is, after all, your choice.”

He swallows, hard.  And then he makes a decision.

“Go frag yourself.”

He’s heard Han repeat the phrase hundreds of times to sellers when a job went south, and knows the vague meaning—more connotation than denotation, in all honesty—and so is expecting an explosive reaction.  He knows that, had he said it to Seven, he would likely be screaming for mercy already.

But instead, his grandmaster draws back, a cold, stony façade settling in.  “I think—“

At that moment, Seven enters again, this time from the opposite side of the room as the wall moves aside.  Ezra doesn’t recognize the apparatus behind her, though clearly the others do. He feels a faint thread of recognition slip through their shields—and then their gazes all fall on him.

“Apprentice, if you would?” the Grand Inquisitor calls.  For a minute, Ezra almost thinks the Pau’an is addressing him, until Ezra’s master steps forward again.

“I need to check it again, just to be sure it’s on the right setting, Master,” he says.  His voice is toneless; nothing is revealed by it. The Pau’an holds his gaze for a long moment before nodding.

“Very well.  Hurry.”

Ezra’s master nods in assent and turns, walking calmly up to the machine and crouching.  He can’t tell what the man’s doing from his place in the center of the room, but whatever it is, he finishes quickly and returns to the group, kneeling as he faces his master.

All of them seem ignorant of the thick vapor pouring out of the machine now.

“Is it ready?”

“It is now, Master.”

“Good.  Now hurry and finish the job.”

“Yes, my lord.”  He nods.

And turns to look at Ezra.

Ezra senses his intentions all too quickly and begins backing up, eyes widening.

“Master, Master _please._ ”

His master rises from his kneeling position and turns fully, gaze dark.

“Master.”

The man opens his hand, lightsaber flying to it and igniting.

“Master, I don’t– I don’t– Master—“

“Quiet.”  He shuts up instantly, trembling faintly as his master advances.  He drops his head and the man’s stare turns into a glare.

Within moments, his throat has an invisible chokehold around it and he’s being flung across the room, pinned to a wall.  He squirms, gasping for breath and eyes bulging as his master continues to advance, free hand held out.

“Please, Master, please—“

“I said _quiet,_ ” the man growls, slapping him hard enough to hurt for once.  He flinches back further. His master has never raised his hand to him, not like...not like this.

He meets his master’s gaze again.  There’s a softening for less than a moment, something saying “trust me,” and then there’s a lightsaber on one side of his neck and a hand still pinning his throat down, already tightening as he ducks downward despite the chokehold and rolls to the floor, gasping as the lightsaber is raised, ready to strike—

The window shatters inward.


	24. XXIV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kanan pays the piper while Sabine finds an unexpected ally.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Referenced Attempted Murder/Execution of a Child, Implied/Referenced Genocide, Restraints

“If you were so committed to proving your loyalty, then I have a question for you, Apprentice,” the Grand Inquisitor says, voice deceptively calm.  Kanan stands before him, head bowed slightly. Behind him, he can feel Seven’s presence, thick and heavy and weighing above him like the executioner’s axe.

At his master’s next words, however, he quickly identifies her as the smallest threat in the room.

“Why do the carbonite freezer’s controls appear to be set to ‘stasis’ rather than ‘death?’”

His breath hitches in his throat and he swallows, forcing himself to answer.  “It was set to ‘death’ when I checked it just before, Master.”

“Hmm.”

“I swear, I swear it wa—“

“Quiet, boy.”  Kanan quiets instantly, gaze tracking his master as the Pau’an begins to pace in front of him.  “I don’t believe you, Apprentice, and I want you to know that. I want you to realize just how futile your attempts are.  The boy is out of your hands now. There is  _ nothing _ you can do to protect him,  _ nothing _ you can do to save him.  At this point, he is completely  _ beyond _ salvation.”

“But he’s out of  _ your _ hands, too,” Kanan spits.

The air around his throat tightens for a moment, just enough to act as a warning, before the pressure releases.

“I would be careful, Apprentice.  You’re treading on thin ice at the moment.  It’d be a shame if someone were to help it break.”  Kanan glowers at his master.

“Are you even aware of the danger you’re bringing down upon us all?”  He blinks at the sudden change in subject; his master begins to pace again.  “Do you even  _ know _ who the Shadow is?  What he  _ has _ done, and what he  _ will _ do now that he has your weak imitation of an apprentice?  I gave you the opportunity to give the boy a merciful death.

“And instead, you’ve only made his—and your own—inevitable demise more painful.”

* * *

Ezra swallows, hard, as he wakes up.  Blinking, he sits up slightly, moving to rub his eye when something pulls on his hand.

Binders, connected to a short chain hooked to the wall.

Ezra panics, beginning to hyperventilate as he pulls against it once more.  Nothing. No give.

He tries to use the Force, too, but can’t quite reach it.  His panic only rises.

Ezra continues to pull against the chain, despite his efforts only resulting in the cuffs chafing painfully against his wrists.   _ Need to get out need to get out need to get out— _

He hears a distant door slide open and stops struggling, glancing up fearfully.  He finally takes the chance to acknowledge his surroundings; it looks like he’s in a cell of some sort.  But...isn’t he supposed to be  _ dead _ right now?

As footsteps begin to approach his cell from the outside, he tries to go through the events that transpired before he was knocked out.

He can’t remember any of it.

The door slides open and a silhouetted figure enters.  Ezra scoots back against the wall, swallowing thickly once more.

“Are you awake?”

“Who– who are you?” Ezra says instead of replying.  The figure chuckles softly, approaching and crouching in front of Ezra.  He can barely make out any details, but at least now he can see that the owner of the voice has horns.

“Will you allow me to explain the predicament you are involved in first?”

Ezra answers with a wary nod.

“First, what do you remember?”

“Not...not much after my master– after my master—“  He becomes choked up, hyperventilating again before he knows what hits him.  His master had– his master had tried to—

“Ah.  You must have been unconscious when I came in.  You were on the ground, and a man—I assume he was your master?—was standing above you with his lightsaber drawn.  I took them off guard long enough to get you out and away from them. Don’t worry. You are safe here.”

Ezra nods slowly, shifting.  “Then why am I cuffed?” he asks, voice hoarse.

“Only as a precautionary measure.”  The figure waves a hand, and the binders come undone.  Ezra immediately pulls his hands in front of him and rubs his wrists, dipping his head in thanks.  “I merely wanted to ensure that you would not attack me upon waking.” He nods again.

The figure rises, and Ezra stiffens.  “Wait, where are you go—“

“I have matters to attend to.  You may remain here, I’ll return soon enough.”

“But I didn’t even get your na—“

The figure stops at the now-open doorway, still silhouetted even as he turns halfway to face Ezra.  “You may call me Maul,” he says softly.

He leaves Ezra behind.

* * *

First thing after getting off the shuttle, Sabine headed to a nearby vendor and purchased hair dye.

Buying passage on a refugee ship of questionable reputation was easy enough after that, and dyeing her hair in the ‘fresher once on said ship was only easier.  They didn’t even ask for identification when they reached Nar Shaddaa, only proof of passage paid.

The trickiest parts of the whole endeavor were covering up her absence, navigating the underworld, and contacting Tristan.

It’s been a week.  One long, arduous week in which Sabine has had to resist the urge to call in Imperial reinforcements five times and forcibly discouraged pickpockets twice.

And yet, she still hasn’t heard anything even  _ remotely _ reminiscent of her brother.

She arrives at the same cantina she’s been coming to for the past five days and sits at the same spot as usual, eyes flicking up to every person who comes in.

_ Is this subtle enough?  Kriff, what if the reason he hasn’t come yet is because I’m being  _ too  _ subtle?  Do I need to make it more obvious who I am? _

But no.

She can’t afford to draw more attention to herself; according to the report she sent in before leaving Kril’Dor, she’s supposed to be on Ilum by now, researching kyber formations in the field.  She plans on deactivating her commlink completely at some point—she did so to its tracker prior to getting on the refugee transport—but for now, she wants them to still think she’s alive, only lost.

And besides, she might need the comm to contact her brother.

Today is different, however.

A Mandalorian enters the establishment only an hour into her impromptu stakeout.  He scans the bar for a few seconds before spotting her and approaching, sitting down without so much as a greeting.  He keeps his helmet on.

“Tristan?” she risks asking after several minutes of awkward silence.  The armor’s different enough, sure, but if the reports she read are right, then her family’s been in hiding for several years now.  It would make sense if their armor underwent some massive redesigns to assist with that.

The man nods.  “I got your message,” he says.  His voice is significantly deeper than she remembers Tristan’s being, but...it’s been a while.

_ But you didn’t  _ send _ a message…. _

Maybe he was referring to the fact that she’s been coming to the same spot every day.  Maybe he just wants to be cautious in regards to those around them. Of course, that must be it.

“Good,” she answers finally, smiling.  His armor is mostly a dark, scarred green, a color she distantly remembers him disliking.  Then again, likes and dislikes change. And it’s been a long, long time.

“Come on, my ship’s this way.”  He rises and she follows, leaving a cred chip on the table for the half-finished drink she’s leaving behind.

They leave the cantina and people actually seem to step  _ away _ from them, a few fearful glances cast up at her younger brother.  He’s taller than her still, she notes.

“Why are they scared of you?”

“I have a reputation,” is all he says in answer.

As they begin to turn down a few side streets, Sabine tries to strike up a conversation with him.  “So where’s Mother? And Father? Are they with you?”

He falters a step, but recovers quickly.  “They’re...all right,” he says slowly. “Father...has been fighting more.”

“More paintings?”

“Yeah.”

They reach a landing pad and Tristan starts to head toward a ship.  Sabine starts to follow.

Something hits the ground just ahead of her brother.

She recognizes the clicking and bolts, not paying attention to Tristan as he hopefully does the same.  The detonator goes off only moments later, blasting the space they were in only moments ago. She turns, bright cyan hair whipping against her face as a landing ship above stirs up wind.  The ramp is open, and a green Twi’lek woman kneels and fires rapidly at Tristan. As Sabine straightens and her hand darts to her blaster, however, the woman’s fire turns on her and she’s forced to duck behind a crate.

“Don’t shoot!” an all-too familiar voice calls.  “Don’t shoot her!”

“Spectre Four, wha—“

“Don’t!” the owner of the new voice yells again.  Sabine risks a peek over the top of the crate to see a dark-haired teen in Mandalorian armor charge down the ramp, throwing a hand up in front of the Twi’lek.

“Spectre Four, get out of the way—“

“She’s my sister.”

Sabine’s ears begin to ring, even as someone starts shooting at the ship from across the landing pad.

_ Wait...if that’s Tristan….Then who’s the person I came with? _


	25. XXV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sabine confronts one of the people who paid for her crimes while Ezra has a devastating dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Death of Parents, Blood, Referenced Genocide

_“Ezra.  Ezra, come here.”_

_His parents._

_He runs toward them, arms wide.  “Mom! Dad!”_

_They crack smiles, too, and his mother crouches to open her arms to him as well.  He runs faster, faster, faster—he’s not moving._

_The moment he realizes that is the same moment he hears the snarl._

_He turns, against his will, to see a massive Loth-wolf loping toward him.  He tries to scream, but can’t find it in himself to make the sound come out.  Instead, he watches as the wolf leaps over him and lands just ahead. He can’t make himself turn to watch, but he hears growling and roaring._

Loth-wolves don’t roar, _he finds himself thinking._

_There’s a final roar before it cuts off abruptly, leading into a pained yelp.  Ezra finds himself able to move again and turns to keep running to his parents before the wolf can reach them._

_He doesn’t end up taking a single step._

_His parents’ bodies lie in a bloodied heap, next to the corpse of some massive monster.  The Loth-wolf is still there, too, only turned away._

_“_ Mom! _” he screams.  “_ Dad! _”_

_The wolf turns, a snarl already on its lips.  However, when it sees Ezra, its tail lowers and the growl immediately dissipates.  It steps to the side and lays down, head on its paws. Ezra swallows, choking back a harsh breath as he approaches._

_“Why did you kill them?”_

_The wolf whines pitifully, blinking its golden eyes and looking up at him._

_“_ Why?! _” he shouts._

_The wolf is silent this time, though it casts a glance to the corpse behind it.  Taking the hint, Ezra pulls his attention away from the wolf and walks toward the body._

_He realizes now that it’s not a corpse, but rather a pile of fabric.  Not a monster, but rather an article of clothing._

_Something glistens inside it._

_He moves it aside to reveal a silver cylinder.  He picks it up, inspecting it before pressing the button on the side.  The light blinds him, and dimly, he can hear the Loth-wolf barking._

Ezra wakes with a start, blinking and wincing.  There’s no light to blind him anymore, but the darkness is almost _more_ blinding.

A door opens, light spilling into the room.  Ezra blinks and glances down, trying to shield his eyes from the assault.  Maul enters, blocking the light momentarily before stepping past the threshold.  “Ezra. You’re awake.”

He nods and starts to stand up, now shielding his eyes with a hand.  “Yeah. I– I am—wait. How do you know my name?”

“I searched your mind while you were out.  I wanted to ensure that there was nothing vital I missed while you were asleep.”

This fact bothers him, but his brain is too fogged to come up with an articulate argument as to _why_ it bothers him.  Instead he swallows, nodding and leaning back against the wall.  “Can I come out now?”

“Yes.”

Ezra can’t help a slight smile as he pushes off from the wall, approaching the doorway.  Maul leads the way out, standing to the side as Ezra exits the cell.

“Why am I here?  People don’t save you just because they can.”

“Very insightful, Apprentice.  I—“

“Wait, hol– hold up.”  Ezra raises a hand, brow furrowed.  “I’m not your apprentice.”

“Yes, you are,” Maul says, dipping his head.  “Or you are now, at any rate.”

“No, I– I _have_ a master, his name is– his name is—“

“You don’t know his name,” Maul says quietly.  “It’s okay. But remind yourself of what he did to you.”

“He– he– he let me escape, and when I was recaptured…” Ezra trails off, swallowing hard.  His gaze drops.

“And then what did he do?” Maul asks, his tone filled with...sympathy?

_Why?_

He swallows painfully.  “He….He tried to...I _trusted_ him, and he tried– tried to _kill me!_ ”

“And how did that make you feel?”

“Mad.”  Furious.  Heartbroken.  Betrayed. Despairing.  Hopeless. But “mad” is a good enough word for all of that.

“He tried to _kill you._   Kill _you._   After saying that he would try his hardest to _protect_ you...he tried to kill you to save his own skin.  I can see why you might be mad.” He swallows again, hard, at Maul’s words.

“What can I do?”

Maul smiles.

* * *

“What the _kriff_ Sabine!”

Tristan shoves her back against the bulkhead, jabbing a finger in her collarbone.

“What kriffing _right_ do _you_ think _you_ have to come in here and—“

She pushes him back, taking a step out of range.  “I just rewatched that message you sent me the night you all left!  _You’re_ the one who kriffing _sent it to me!_ ”

“Well I didn’t expect you’d stay with the Empire another five hundred years and _then_ decide to leave only when it was convenient for you!” he shouts.  “I thought that maybe you’d be, I dunno, actually kriffing _smart_ about it!”

“Well _I_ wasn’t the one who just up and _ran away_ because I couldn’t handle politics!”

“ _Superweapons aren’t politics!_ ”

“ _Children!_ ”

They both turn to face the Twi’lek woman from the ramp.  Tristan instantly backs down, mumbling an apology. Sabine, however, stands her ground.

It’s the first time she’s done so in a while, and it feels good.

“Tristan, I expected better from you.  And you, I’m sorry I don’t—“ She gestures toward Sabine.

“Sabine.”

“—Sabine.  Tristan made a good case for you, but I’m not sure anymore that I should have listened to him.”

“I’m not sure, either,” Tristan admits in a low voice, crossing his arms.  He glares at Sabine and she flinches slightly. “We should’ve ignored her while we still had a chance.”

“Tristan, please, I promise—“

“Promise _what?!_   You left us to get _killed_ by that– that _thing!_ ”

“I didn’t know they would—“

“That they would _use it?_   That it wasn’t just _hypothetical?_   This is the _Empire_ we’re talking about, Sabine.  They’ll _always_ use it if it can kill people.”

She bites her lip, sighing and letting her shoulders slump.

“Why’d you even try to contact me, anyway?”

“Because over the past couple years...they’ve been having me work on something else.  Something _worse_ than the Duchess.”

“Nothing’s worse than that _karking—_ “

“Well this _is,_ Tristan.”  Her voice lowers and begins to waver.  “I watched them test it. It’s...it’s got the potential to be a planet killer.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait, we got a new goat recently and I’m preparing to get a sixth one too so it’s been really busy prepping for those two. Plus a lack of motivation and a multitude of other fic ideas rip.


	26. XXVI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Han and Kanan both find help in unlikely places.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Referenced Forced Abandonment, Referenced Breakdown, Hypothetical Child Death

Han stares at the hologram aimlessly, sighing as he reads through the lines of Aurebesh again.

_Traitor to the Empire_

_May Go by Ezra Bridger_

_Extremely Dangerous_

_Dead or Alive_

_₹900,000 Reward_

None of those described Dev, right?  The quiet, awkward boy _he_ knew wouldn’t hurt a fly.

He remembers the look on Dev’s face as he gestured and sent the swoop bikes flying.

 _“The kid– I dunno_ what _he is, Chewie, but that’s not– that’s not normal.”_   An isolated incident, that’s all it is.  The kid hadn’t acted like that again. Not that Han had _noticed,_ at least.

_“C’mere, kid,” Han murmurs, sitting on the ground and pulling the teen into his lap.  Dev allows the smuggler to hold him but only sobs harder, body shaking as he curls into Han’s chest.  “C’mere.”_

_Dev cranes his neck over his shoulder, eyes pleading and desperate. “Han!_ Han! _”_

The kid, Ezra, Dev, _whatever_ his name is, _isn’t_ dangerous.  In fact, he’s probably the furthest thing _from_ it.

And Han kriffing let the Empire take him.

He buries his face in his hands, inhaling deeply.  _You should’ve stopped them.  If you had only fought harder, you_ could’ve _stopped them._

 _And instead, you just took your kriffing money and took your kriffing ship and_ abandoned _him._

 _What a useless friend_ you _are._

A groan from behind him elicits a sigh.

“Not now, Chewie.”

Chewbacca groans again and Han lowers his hands, turning to shoot his friend a glare.

“I’m not in the mood to talk right no—“

He cuts himself off at the sight of the cloaked Togruta woman standing next to Chewbacca.

“Han Solo, wasn’t it?  I believe you have something of mine,” she says in a quiet voice, brow raised as she glares down at Han.

“I need another drink; I’m so tired I’m _seeing_ things,” he mutters to himself, making to turn back to the bar and finish off his glass.

A grip on his shoulder pulls him back to face Chewbacca and the woman.  _So, not a hallucination after all._

“What is it?” he mutters.

“The holocron.  You and Ezra took it from my ship.  Where is it?”

“Your little cube and _Dev_ are in the hands of the Empire now, lady, and if we’re being honest, I don’t care much about that first thing.  It’s caused us too much trouble. Chewie, let’s go.” Chewbacca protests again as Han rises unsteadily, shooting a glare at the woman as he stumbles past her.

“Hey, you gotta pay for that!” the barkeep yells after him.

“Just put it on my tab,” he replies.  More debts are the last thing he needs to worry about, but he can’t bring himself to care enough to do anything about it.

“ _Ezra_ is not with the Empire,” the woman corrects, suddenly right beside him again.  He resists the urge to groan as he hurries out of the bar.

“Yeah he is.  Saw them take him with my own eyes.  Kid probably blames me.” _And he’d be right to._

“He’s not,” she argues.  “They deactivated his bounty pucks a couple weeks ago, but now they’re back up.  Wherever he is now, it’s not with them.”

Han slows to a stop, raising a brow.  “So you’re sayin’ the kid got out?”

“Yes,” she says, blue-eyed gaze steady.  “And I need you to help me find him, _and_ the holocron.”

* * *

“Let me prove myself again, Master.”

“How?”

The Grand Inquisitor looks down at him, brow ridge raised as a faint smirk plays on his lips.  Kanan decides to ignore the look of amusement, focusing instead on the hardened cold beneath.

“I...I want to go after him.  After my app– my _former_ apprentice, Master.”

The Grand Inquisitor chuckles softly, shaking his head.  After a moment of Kanan’s silence, however, he falls silent.  The Pau’an’s brow ridge shoots further up.

“You’re serious.”

“Yes, my lord,” Kanan answers, nodding.  “I am. I– I want to redeem myself further, to prove I can...to prove I’m capable of controlling him.  Because I _am,_ Master.”

“I _believe_ you showed me that you weren’t capable of controlling him when he ran away from you on Lothal.”  Kanan feels a slight sting at the memory, but not at the accusation from his master. More from the accusation from _himself._

_You weren’t good enough for him.  You couldn’t provide him the support system he needed, so he ran off and found one on his own._

Then again, was Kanan ever even _supposed_ to be a support system for the kid?  The short answer is no.

No, he wasn’t.  And he still isn’t.

And that hurts more than the rest does.

“I want to prove myself, my lord,” Kanan finds himself repeating.

The Grand Inquisitor holds his gaze for a long, long moment before he finally speaks, voice cold.

“You would have to bring someone else with you.  Someone to ensure you...stayed on task.”

“Of course, my lord.”

“Someone who harbors sufficient enough hate for the boy that, given the chance, they would kill him on sight.”

“Of course, my lord.”

“After all, that _would_ be the primary goal of this mission, wouldn’t it be, Apprentice?”

Kanan somehow manages to hold his gaze steady.  “Yes, Master.”

“Then I think I have your partner for this particular mission picked out.”  The dark smile on his face unsettles Kanan, though his greeting upon pulling out his comm unsettles him even more.  “Seventh Sister. I have a job for you.”


	27. XXVII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The _Ghost_ returns to base.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Mention of Attempted Execution, Mention of Attempted Child Murder, Child Abuse, Manipulation

The trip back to the rebel base is awkwardly silent.

Tristan sits next to the pilot, who introduced herself as Hera shortly after the argument.  Sabine herself sits behind Tristan, watching the pair’s interactions carefully. They seem familiar with each other, the kind of familiarity one only achieves after years of working together.  Hera had called him Spectre Four, right? And if he was the fourth….

“Who are the other Spectres?”

“Classified,” Tristan snaps in the same moment Hera responds.

“My droid, Zeb, and me,” she says, shooting a raised brow at Tristan.  He barely manages to suppress a pout.

“Who’s Zeb?”

“You’ll meet him when we get back,” Hera says before Tristan can intervene.  Sabine nods.

“Hera, we’re not taking her to—“

“We _are,_ Tristan.  And _you_ were the one who originally requested that someone should pick her up if I’m remembering right, so stop complaining.  There were people in the Rebellion hesitant about picking the other members of your family up, too, originally,” she says sharply.  Tristan nods.

“Wait, hold on.  Mother’s—“

“Yeah,” Tristan cuts her off with a glance.  “Both our _buir’e_ are there.”

“Oh.”  Sabine falls silent, biting her lip.  She shifts in her seat and focuses her gaze on the windshield and the blue lines of hyperspace beyond it.

Hera clears her throat, breaking the quiet.  “Sabine, when we get to the Rebellion, I have to warn you that you won’t be heralded as a hero or anything like that.  You’re a defector, and as glad as we are that you’ve decided to make that decision, you won’t be treated like anyone special.”

Sabine nods; she hasn’t been expecting anything else.  However, her heart stutters for a moment as another possibility comes to mind.

“Will there be questioning?”

“Yes,” Hera nods.  “Of course. We have to figure out some things, including verifying your story and where you’d be best suited to help us.”

“I’m not going to turn you guys in.”

“It’s just a precaution,” Hera says carefully, shooting a brief glance over her shoulder to meet her eyes.  “But I do want you to know that you’re getting better treatment than most. Tristan vouched for you.”

“Thanks.”  Her brother turns halfway, nodding in acceptance of her gratitude.  “What about...our parents?”

She notices a sudden stiffening in Tristan’s posture as Hera replies.  “They haven’t been told that we’re bringing you back with us yet.”

“Why not?”

“No reason,” Tristan hastily cuts in.  He shoots Hera a look, shaking his head.  Sabine catches the Twi’lek pursing her lips before she returns her gaze to the windshield.

An alert beeps on the console soon and Hera shifts, sitting forward more.  Tristan does the same, and without warning he throws a lever and the ship drops out of hyperspace.  Sabine sits forward as a faintly red planet appears before them.

“Is that…?”

“Welcome to the Rebellion, _ori’vod._ ”

* * *

“Do you remember why your master tried to kill you?”

“I ran off.  So they– they were gonna execute me.”

“But _why?_ ”

Ezra frowns, struggling to come up with a better reason—because clearly Maul has come up with the _real_ reason his master tried to kill him.  “I….”

Maul backhands him across the face, hard.  Ezra suppresses a whimper, resigning himself to looking at the floor and swallowing hard as his cheek throbs.

“I’m not sure, Ma– Master.  I’m s– s– sorry.”

Maul sighs, glaring down at Ezra.  After a moment he shakes his head, clasping his hands behind his back and beginning to pace in front of Ezra.  “You’re _weak._   You _were_ weak, you _are_ weak, and you always _will be_ weak.  Which means that you will need to work twice as hard as anyone else would have to in your position.”

He nods hurriedly, still suppressing a wince at the sting in his cheek.

“But I can help you do that, Ezra.”

The teen glances up again, hope flickering in his gaze.

* * *

Hera transmits their clearance codes and brings the _Ghost_ in for a landing by the main base, setting the freighter down and only raising a small cloud of dust.  She and Tristan turn the ship’s various systems off and rise, Hera giving the old girl’s console a silent pat as Tristan leads the way out and down the ramp.  His sister follows; Hera herself brings up the rear.

As she comes down the ramp she raises a tattooed-on brow at the sight of the large crowd waiting to greet them.  Command had known she was going to retrieve a possible defector, of course, but hearing the rumors spread and seeing the results are two different things.

The fact that Tristan is standing protectively in front of Sabine, much like a wolf protecting one of its own, is certainly not helping the situation.

“Sabine, Spectre Four.  Let’s go,” Hera barks, jerking her head toward the makeshift interrogation center Command had set up while they waited for better facilities to be built.  Sabine turns, and Tristan hesitates only a moment before following her.

Hera leads them through the maze of ancient coral, unfazed by it in the slightest.  Tristan tries to seem unfazed, too, but she sees through his act and catches the occasional interest in his eyes.

Sabine, however, is a different story.

The older Mandalorian is unable to hide the slack-jawed wonder that permeates her entire being as she stops every couple of steps to glance up at the coral.

Still, they’re on a schedule.

“Keep up,” she says, shooting a look over her shoulder.  Tristan nods in agreement, giving Sabine a gentle nudge.

They pass by Tactical Support and continue on, however Hera slows when she doesn’t feel their gazes on her anymore.  She turns to see the siblings hovering at the entrance to Tactical Support. Oh. Of course. Ursa had been reassigned to Support after her injuries from a mission a month or two ago.  The older woman had been insulted at first, until she had been thoroughly convinced that it was nothing against her ability to fight but rather her ability to heal.

“ _Buir?_ ” Tristan calls hesitantly.  Hera recognizes the Mando’a as the neutral word for _parent._

“Yes, Trist—“

Ursa falls silent and Hera walks over, arriving in time to see the older woman raise a hand to her mouth.

“Hello, Mother,” Sabine begins slowly, offering a nervous laugh.  “It’s...been a while.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We’re getting close to the end SO some preliminary thank yous!! A HUGE shoutout to Cr4zyDreamer for beta-ing almost this entire thing and the Phoenix Nest Discord server for always being there to answer my probably-never-hypothetical questions!


	28. XXVII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All falls into place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Mention of Hypothetical Execution, Mention of Forced Child Abandonment, Implied/Referenced Torture of a Child, Threats of Death to a Child

_Nine Months Later_

Sabine blows a strand of faded scarlet hair out of her eyes as she pushes the crate up the loading ramp of the _Ghost._   Zeb meets her at the top, the Lasat taking the crate from her with a grunt.

“Ask AP how many more o’ those we got, will ya?”

“Yeah,” she tosses over her shoulder, walking halfway down the ramp before moving to the side and hopping the last half down.

“ _Vod._ ”  She glances up at Tristan’s call, shielding her eyes with a hand even as she continues walking to where the crates and the former Imperial inventory droid stand, several meters from the ship.

“Brother.”  Tristan arrives and stops in front of her, glancing down, and—not for the first time—she wishes she were taller than him.  “Do you need something?”

“Tactical Support.  Mother wants you.” She nods.

“Can I finish with these crates first?”

“She said it was urgent,” Tristan says, expression unreadable.  She hesitates for a moment, expecting him to challenge her—even months later, that’s still her first instinct, to defend herself and her work—but he doesn’t.  Finally she gives in with another nod and a sigh.

“Okay, I’ll let Zeb know.”  She turns to head back up the ramp.  “Big guy, Tristan says I’m needed at Tactical Support.  Can you and AP manage the rest of these on your own?”

His ears flatten momentarily but he nods.  “‘Guess so. Good luck with yer mom.”

She snorts.  “I’ll need it.”

Nine months in the Rebellion, and she’s still wondering if this is where she’s meant to be.

* * *

“Remind me _again_ whose idea it was to sneak into the Empire dressed as kriffing _Inquisitors?_ ”

Tano shoots a glance at him, sighing and shaking her head in defeat.  “And you had a _better_ idea?”

“Yeah!  Sneak in as pilots!”

She points to her montrals.  “Alien, remember? How were you going to hide that?”

Han glares.  “You just don’t have any creativity.”

Tano offers him a rare smile, though he gets the feeling the fact it puts her fangs on full display isn’t accidental.

“Just remember the plan.”

Han waves a hand.  “Yeah, yeah, you’re an Inquisitor, I’m an Inquisitor, and Chewie’s the newest Force-sensitive we’ve found.”

“Exactly,” Tano nods.  “And what are we doing with him?”

“We’re taking him to the detention levels for…‘Preliminary Training,’” Han sneers, the words making his skin crawl.  Tano nods again.

 _Did...did_ Dev _go through this?_

The thought comes into his mind unbidden and he remembers the frantic shouts the boy cried as he was dragged away.

_All your fault._

He suppresses the thought, resettling his hands on the steering yoke of the transport and taking a deep breath in.

_You can fix this.  Just play it safe, and you can fix this._

As they draw nearer to the scarlet surface of Mustafar, he sure hopes he can.

* * *

Kanan tramps through the vegetation, wrinkling his nose at the stench.  “Smells like something died,” he mutters to himself.

“It’ll be _you_ if you don’t have us turn around within the next klick,” Seven bites out acidly, hissing a curse as a branch whacks her in the mouthpiece of her helmet.  Kanan can’t help but suppress his smile. Sometimes, the other Inquisitors, despite how good they claim to be, really _are_ blind in the Force.

“We have a mission, and we’re gonna do it.  And we’re not gonna do it halfway, either,” Kanan growls.  He ducks under a low-hanging vine.

“And _why_ did we have to come all the way to kriffing _Alistan Nor_ to do it?”

“You know _exactly_ why.”  He’s getting fed-up with her, and is half-tempted to shove his lightsaber into her face once they’re out of the thicker part of the jungle.

“Because you sensed your precious _apprentice_ all the way out _here?_   Let me tell you, Brother.  If you think that impudent _child_ will be returning with us to Mustafar, you are sorely mistaken.  He will be executed before we ever hit atmo—”

Kanan whirls, lightsaber out and ignited in his hand.  “What _else_ do you have to say about him?” he asks, voice dangerously soft.

She scoffs, moving her hand slightly and shoving the ‘saber away with the Force.  “I think you already know.”

Kanan sets his jaw and glares at her for a long, long moment before turning away.  “Let’s keep going, then.”

* * *

Ezra pushes through the undergrowth behind Maul, keeping up as well as he can.  “Why are we out here again, Master? I thought we—”

“Quiet,” Maul orders.  Ezra closes his mouth with an audible _clack._

As they walk, Ezra focuses on the now-familiar weight of his ‘saber on his belt.  Building it this time was a much different experience. Maul’s teachings on the matter were significantly better than the Inquisitorius’s had been, and even though it resulted in a single-bladed weapon—which he only had some degree of experience at the time with—he’s satisfied.  The blade feels a part of him now, just as much as his training with the Inquisitorius and his master—

“Apprentice,” Maul says, stopping without warning.  Ezra nearly stumbles into him, managing to stop just in time and swallow back his comment.  “Please _do_ keep in mind that I _can_ sense your thoughts, no matter how well-shielded you may believe yourself to be.”

“I wasn’t thinking anything—”

“Don’t pretend you didn’t just refer to someone else as your master in your mind, Ezra,” Maul says quietly.

“I didn’t—”

Maul draws his ‘saber and whirls toward him, calling Ezra’s lightsaber to his hand in the same moment.  His blade is up against Ezra’s throat, making him stumble back against a tree as he gasps for breath and tries not to move.

“ _Would you like to try to_ lie _to me again, Apprentice?_ ” he hisses.

“Step away from my apprentice,” says a cold, familiar voice.

Ezra glances at the clump of trees directly over Maul’s shoulder.

And sees his master.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys for all the love you have shown me and the Ambivalence 'verse, as well as the Collapse(s) 'verse which preceded it. Whether you're joining the story today or when the first chapter of Trained in Darkness was released, I thank you so much. Your guys' love and support (and the love and support from the wonderful person who has now beta-ed this monster as well as the entirety of Collapse(s) and had to deal with all my angsty writing, along with my other amazing beta Cr4zydreamer who somehow stuck around despite all my plot questions, and the Phoenix Nest Discord who helped to motivate and assist me as I figured out ways to fake Ezra's death) means so so much to me that I can't even begin to describe it. I'm not sure at the moment if there will be a sequel, but my betas are down so I think I will be at some point after working some more on Lack All Conviction, Kiss the Feet of a Charlatan, The Rest Is Silence, Rattle, and Borer in the Axis, as well as a new AU. I highly recommend that, if you're still looking for things to read after this fic, to check out those listed as well as the other Ambivalence 'verse fics! They offer more depth to the events and characterizations in Of Dust & Fire.
> 
> Thank you.

**Author's Note:**

> Of Ash & Blood will arrive in 2020.
> 
> Join the Rebels Discord [here](https://discord.gg/A9aCvce)!


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